Fire Flower
by Ink-Tainted
Summary: SI/AU! The shinobi aren't the only ones with the strength to win against staggering odds, as Kazumi would discover. To quietly protect, to unobtrusively support, and to persevere without losing herself. To change a broken world with a second chance.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

I don't remember what happened. How I was suddenly ripped from everything I knew and thrust in an impossible reality. What I _do_ remember is the keener sensation of being born for the second time. Truthfully, it is now but a blending of sensations and feelings, like the cold, cold air hitting my skin and the, by contrast, warm hands securing linen clothes around me, warming, but irritating all the same. I remember the moderate sound of Hahaue's voice, rising above all the controlled chaos around me to gently shush my whimpers.

In the subsequent months, I was terrified. Time here blurs in a never-ending cycle of trying to understand what had happened and crying out for something _familiar_. There was nothing, and I couldn't begin to comprehend why I was with this woman and where I was being kept.

I had no control over my body. My motor skills were poor at best, and I was overwhelmed by everything around me. The simple act of breathing in the cold, with a soft undercurrent of paper and old wood, air of my new house was a novelty. Every texture was maximized against my skin, every noise stunning and confusing to my unaccustomed hearing. My sight, though, was rather abysmal when compared to my other senses, and I hardly could make sense of anything around me… Except, maybe, for the caring face of Hahaue, her beautiful visage filling my world from then onwards.

In those days, she slowly became the solid point in my changed existence. Her voice, her warmth, her eyes... That strange woman would give me everything in every touch and action. I couldn't stop the growing feeling of familiarity and dependence that sprout during the early weeks of my stay at that strange house and stranger situation.

I had two older siblings, which was an innovation all in its own. I didn't know their names, and they weren't exactly excited by the new addition to the family. I admit it would be months before I could differentiate between them; both had fair skin and black eyes and hair. Besides, they weren't interested in me, so they kept away. But after some time I could hear them playing through the open window, always talking loud and laughing with each other. They were close, apparently, and I was the intruder.

I was perhaps four months old when I finally met the man that I would later identify as my Chichiue. He wasn't a physically intimidating man, being lean and wiry instead of muscled and big, but there was something in his eyes… He is a cold person with dead eyes, it's what I thought that night, when that stranger entered my room. He walked in utilitarian steps and all his movements were precise and curt, somewhat jerky in their execution.

He didn't touch me, just… Looked. I observed him warily from my niche of silky fabric, not moving an inch while we were engaged in that staring contest. I would soon learn that it wasn't a wise decision to start any sort of contest with that man.

He turned just as abruptly to Hahaue and spoke in a loud, rough voice that startled me. It was a voice to bark orders in a battlefield, not to be contained inside four walls, and it filled my living quarters. _He_ filled the whole room with his forceful presence. Hahaue was a soft contrast to him, all demure tones and delicate, well-rounded words. She spoke slowly, as if choosing with carefulness her words, and I realized she didn't care much for this man's temper, either. It made me more afraid of him than anything else he could have done at the time.

He frowned in response, turning his endless gaze to me once again, making me hold my breath. At least, he made a dismissive sound and, with a careless gesture of a scarred hand, he left. I think both Hahaue and I gave a sigh of relief when he stormed out. Strangely enough, he, contrary to all his other attitudes, didn't make a sound even when stepping on the old tatami floor.

I avidly watched Hahaue move to close the door. She was his complete opposite. She was calm and collected, and she _glided_ through the floor, her whole bearing a composition of dance movements, every gesture that ended sliding smoothly into the next. Hahaue didn't make a sound when walking, either, something that I only noticed at the time. The only sound was of her colorful clothes rustling against each other, her tightly bound hair in an elaborate hairstyle that didn't allow even the long tresses that much liberty.

I watched her dance to the door and close it with graceful, liquid gestures, the wood making a sibilant sound that appeared louder than it was in reality. That exact moment, more than every other, would mark me for a long time. I wanted to move that way. I wanted to be as elegant as Hahaue. I wanted to have beautiful adornments weaved through my hair, tinkling softly with every nod. I wanted to be as lovely as her, with her slanted, deep eyes, and her tranquil expression, like nothing could ever make her loose her patience.

She was my role model, and would stay as such for many years to come.

* * *

By around my sixth month I discovered Hahaue was pregnant again. That was… Unexpected. There were three kids running around already, even if my older brothers were more of toddlers and required considerable less attention than me. But apparently, they had their own caretaker, a woman older than Hahaue that helped with them, leaving her to take care of myself and, it now appeared, my soon to be younger sibling.

I also could already sit without help and look around more. I didn't have many toys to play with, but they were strange when compared to my old life's memories. They were wooden toys, rustic and obviously hand-made, and the majority of them were made for development of motor skill and hand-eye coordination. They didn't impress me much, and to my old brain they were easy and senseless. I lost interest one or two weeks later.

I preferred to spend time with Hahaue, even if through the months she couldn't take me in her arms anymore, with her growing belly getting in the way. It didn't matter. I would sit against her warm body, half-hidden by her silken dresses, and watch the world from our porch, her limb hand carding through my rather messy and unruly hair, undoing the many knots that appeared with frequency.

I wasn't having much luck in truly getting the new language spoken around me, even if now I recognized many of the words and could even connect them to objects. Nevertheless, my primary means of understanding was still the interpretation of the speaker's tone of voice and expression. I learned my name at that time, which was interesting. I think Hahaue was worried about my lack of experimentation with my underdeveloped vocal cords, so one afternoon she just sat with me and went through a lot of easy words, including my name. I discovered my name was Uchiha Kazumi.

Obviously, I was horrified by it. I _knew_ the name Uchiha. When in my other life, one of my few hobbies had been read this manga, where everyone had the chance to be strong and make the difference. To discover I was _in it_ was something distressing, indeed. And what is more, I didn't know at what point in the timeline I was, except that in a near future my new family was going to be killed by Uchiha Itachi.

I guess I should have been more worried about the fact that I was in a world with _ninjas_, but my priorities had changed the moment I realized this _was_ my reality now, and that living, breathing people – people that now were part of my life – were going to die. I won't lie, I never thought about how horrible Naruto's world was, or how sick the shinobi system could be. I not even thought about the old dilemma: to be a ninja or not. It just seemed distant somehow, so far away from Hahaue's protective arms. I resolved to wait and see, to assess the situation. I didn't have all the necessary information to be making life-changing decisions. I was a baby, and I was going to stay that way for some months still.

But from that day on I started to notice things. Like the games my older brothers would play, all of them involving some kind of hide and seek with pointy objects or stage fights with lots of sound effects. They loved it, but once in a while, when Chichiue was home and watching over us all like a sinister shadow guardian, he would correct the way they moved with some pointed words. It was with a shiver of unease that I deduced he was preparing them for their training, when it was time.

We lived in a closed off house, with a wall encircling the property, but some people would always come to talk to Chichiue, or even Hahaue, though it was rare. I began to pay attention to the way they moved and their garments. The majority of them were male, all with dark eyes and hair, and a certain dangerous, silent way to move that sent alarm bells through my head. It was in their eyes, in the tensing of their shoulders when a louder sound would surge, in the way they always ran their hands through their waists, searching for their weapons. They were shinobi, and these weren't times of peace.

Now that I was allowed more time outside, I tried to discern landmarks of the Village, but, to my shock, there wasn't any. There were mountain ranges, for sure, in the distance, but the buildings weren't tall and I never saw the Hokage Mountain, even when I fussed to be taken in a tour around our courtyard of beaten earth. Didn't matter the direction I turned my head, I still couldn't see it. It sent a jolt of cold fear through my stomach, and made me restless and nauseated. _Where_ was I? _When_ was I?

After observing the structures of the houses and the way my family and our visitors were dressed, I reached the unpleasant conclusion that I was, in fact, born before the creation of Konohagakure no Sato. This meant we were in war with… Everyone. Now the tense atmosphere and the agitated shinobi made sense. It was the Warring States period, and every stranger was a potential threat.

The only lingering doubt in my mind was how much time it would be before Madara was made Clan Head and united the Senju and Uchiha Clans to form the first Hidden Village. I hoped it was soon, because despite all my comforting thoughts – the most common of them involving my cold-blooded father and his careless display of skill and killing intent –, I didn't have any kind of reassurance about what could happen to Hahaue, and even my distant brothers.

* * *

When I was eleven months old, my younger brother was born. That day, Hahaue didn't come to pick me up in the morning. Instead, Chinatsu-san, my brothers' caretaker, was the one that roused me and took me to the bathroom for a clean change of clothes and some warm water.

I immediately began to worry about Hahaue, fussing and whimpering and just making the caretaker's job more complicated. When I refused my breakfast and just made more of a ruckus, Chinatsu-san made an exasperated sound before lifting me to eye level and stating in a slow and put-upon voice:

"Hush, child. Your mother is fine." At this point she sat me down and just put some more mashed, soft food in my mouth. My vocabulary had improved greatly since my sudden arrival, but I was from mastering my new language. Though I was grateful when she kept talking, I couldn't understand her mumblings.

I thought about possible reasons for Hahaue's absence. She _was_ rather big now, but I didn't have a firm enough grasp on the passage of time to determine how many months she still had until the birth of the baby. It was possible she was giving birth that day, though. More possible than her being sequestrated… It was just as likely, though, that she had had complications and was indisposed, which made me distressed all over again, because medicine at that time was something nearly inexistent, especially in a Clan specialized in combat, like us.

The only thing that made me stop from worrying myself out of my mind was the surprise of being led outside by my new caretaker. It was beginning to get colder and colder with each passing day, and I knew winter was coming, just like when I was born.

Chinatsu-san took me to the porch's edge and helped me sit before doing the same. She swept the courtyard with narrow eyes and I thought for a moment that she was looking for some suspicious movement or object, but her piercing eyes paused when they reached a point near the wall, half-hidden by a large pile of grain sacks.

"Masaru, Ayumu!" she barked, making all of us jump. My brothers turned with slow motions from their work, and took an anxious look at the old lady. When they approached us with wariness she continued with an intimidating expression, her scow marking her large forehead: "What are you doing?"

"Ano… Nothing," gulped the one on the right. That was Ayumu, I was happy to know for sure, now. He was like Chichiue, tall and with a somewhat straight hair, even if his short cut made it stand a little on end.

"Nothing?" repeated Chinatsu-san, her eyes narrowing even more. She turned like a hawk to Masaru, her expression pinching some more. "Obocchama, you are the older brother and you are Clan Heir. I would've thought you would by now understand what it entails. You are a role model to the other children of the compound and must demonstrate good and respectful behavior; besides, you must show the Elders that you are fit to, one day, rule this Clan. I assure you, Obocchama, that you will not achieve either by acting childishly and letting yourself be led by your own brother to play _pranks_ on the hardworking people. Or must I remember you the consequences of the _last_ one?"

It was an impressive piece of scolding, but it held my attention more by the information contained in it. She had called Masaru, _Clan Heir_. How was it possible? I thought Madara was the child of Clan Head Tajima, and his rightful heir. Why was _Masaru_ the Clan Heir? Unless… Well, there could be two explanations. One, I was part of the _current_ leading branch, and Madara or even his father – if he was still alive – would take the power. Or two: I was the third daughter of Uchiha Tajima and therefore sister of Uchiha Madara.

The problem with that was that I didn't have a way to make sure of any of my theories. I hadn't discovered my father's name, and I didn't know the name of Madara's three older brothers. What also intrigued me about it was the fact that I was a girl. I might have been wrong, but I was almost sure that Madara had three other _brothers_, besides Izuna. That made things even more complicated, because it meant that I couldn't have much faith in my recollections of canon material. Also, if I _was_ part of Uchiha Madara's family… Where was _him?_

"You…" Ayumu's growl interrupted my line of thought, startling me with his raging young face. He was very expressive, and his eyes _burned_ with his emotions. Masaru shot his arm in front of Ayumu's chest, barring his advance before it even started.

"No, Chinatsu-san. I don't think it will be necessary. I understand your preoccupations and will strive to reach my Clan's expectations," Masaru said, surprising me. He had a soft voice, still high due to his young age, but his eloquence was astounding. He was small with Ayumu at his side, lean, with long bangs framing his round face. While Ayumu had some kind of boyish charm to him, Masaru was just plain adorable. But he had a seriousness in his expression that unnerved me; I could imagine him with ease growing up to have Chichiue's void black eyes.

It made me mourn his loss, because I knew it would be the kind of thing expected and _required_ by our father. I knew he was older than me by at least five solid years, if not more. Soon, Chichiue would start training him to lead our Clan in battle and in all other instances.

Chinatsu-san snorted and kept her hawk-eyes on Ayumu, but nodded her head in a grave way, like what Masaru said was of some great importance. I failed to see it as such, worried by the pressure being put in my still very young older brother, but refrained from any kind of comment. Not that at eleven months I had such astounding control of my facial and tongue muscles. I gurgled and spewed nonsense at best, but I _did_ like to try it from time to time, just to watch Hahaue's delighted expression.

Quite suddenly she raised and sternly talked to my brothers, in a way to fast and brusque for my burgeoning skills at the language to follow, so I just listened attentively for a word I may have recognized and watched Ayumu's expression for some kind of cue. I didn't try to do the same with Masaru – he would require more detailed observation to decipher his apparent peculiar minimalist way of expressing his emotions.

Ayumu had a petulant sneer on his face when she turned to go inside, briefly checking to see if I was sitting securely atop the wooden steps, resting against one of the thick pillars maintaining the tilting roof. I was, and with a last warning of "behave!" to my older brothers, she was gone.

I turned to Masaru and Ayumu and we stared at each other, unsure of what exactly do with our unexpected bonding time.

"Maybe we could let her there?" suggested Ayumu, crossing his arms and glaring at me like I was the reason for all his poor luck. Masaru's answer was to hit him in the head, making he lost his balance. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Don't be stupid, we can't let a baby alone on the porch," he said in a fairly reasonable voice, even if his advance towards me was stilted and he clearly had no idea of what to do with me. Ayumu grumbled but followed his lead, warily stepping closer, like I was some kind of wild animal. It made me laugh a little, startling both of them.

"Is she making fun of us? Because she sounds like she's making fun of us," Ayumu frowned, looking down at me. Masaru regarded me in silent contemplation, turning his head to the right, his long hair obscuring one disturbingly perceiving eye.

"I think she understands what we're saying."

"Che, _I_ think she's probably retarded. See the way she doesn't even look around? Hey! What was _that_ for?"

I laughed again at their antics, bringing attention once again to me and breaking their staring contest. Masaru sat in front of me in a proper _seiza_ position with a natural grace that made me associate him with Hahaue.

"Kazumi-chan," he called, effectively making me pay attention to his next words. He smiled when he noticed it, but instead of continuing he turned to Ayumu. "See? She understands."

"Huh, big deal. So we have another genius in the family. I don't care, you're better," my second brother replied, making a point of turning his nose up and crossing his arms once again. His face was arrogant and disdaining, and not as innocent or as childish as I thought it would be. His words were callous and make me wonder if he felt envious of Masaru's obvious intelligence and my apparent intellect.

But Masaru only laughed quietly and moved to sit by my side, encircling me with one protective arm.

"I don't think so. Hahaue said that Kazumi-chan should start to understand a few words from now on. It's just her name," he reassured, but it contradicted his earlier words, and it gave me the impression that it was just for Ayumu's benefit. It was nice and comforting to know that Masaru looked out so much for Ayumu, because it could mean that one day he would do the same for me.

"What are we going to do now?" Ayumu asked, trying to disguise his somewhat satisfied face. Masaru hummed in doubt before smiling slightly and reaching inside his yukata for something. He held it up for our inspection and Ayumu groaned and sat heavily, pouting and pointedly looking away. I examined the simple piece of dirty white paper in Masaru's hands with a frown, trying to decipher what about it could be so offensive to Ayumu.

"I don't want to practice. Shishou isn't here, anyway," he grumbled.

I kept looking at it, trying to understand how a piece of paper could help a shinobi in training, until Masaru perceived my stare and, ignoring the degrading snort coming from Ayumu, explained it to me.

"This is for training your chakra. You use it this way," he said, sticking the piece of paper to his forehead with his index finger, making me laugh at his crossed eyes following his own movements. I didn't laugh when he let go and the paper was kept in place by some invisible force. He made a concentrated frown for a moment longer before turning his eyes to me and opening a wide, proud smile. "See? It's harder than it looks."

"Yeah, she understands everything," interrupted Ayumu, rolling his eyes.

"Don't be like this. She's smart," replied Masaru with an arrogant tilt of his chin. It made me feel good, to know he was proud _of me_. No one had ever been proud of me, except for Hahaue. And most of the time she was worried about my lack of progress toward normal baby milestones.

"Whatever. Give me that," Ayumu extended his hand with impatience, demanding the scrap.

"You can't do it, baka," laughed Masaru, quickly taking the paper off his head and leaning back, away from our brother's reaching hand. Ayumu blushed in response, two red splotches in his cheeks against the paleness of his skin.

"Can do!" he cried out, in such an immature manner that it made me laugh again, making me start to guess at his age. Maybe he had appeared so much older than me because of my lack of familiarity with children. I never could guess their age, I was horrible at it. He turned to me with a brewing storm in his eyes.

"Here, take it. It's not like it will hurt you to try, anyway," intervened Masaru, sensing that it wasn't fair to let his baby younger sister suffer the wrath of one Uchiha Ayumu, vengeful little brat. I hope, at least.

Still grumbling, Ayumu took the paper and copied Masaru's earlier actions, but kept his finger for a longer time and his frown didn't waver. His face was all scrunched up in childish concentration and beads of sweat began to roll down his forehead. But after maybe some minutes, when he let it go, the paper fluttered to the floor, swaying with the gentle morning breeze.

"Damn it!" he snarled, but before he could sweep the scrap aside with an angry move of his hand, Masaru collected it in an incredible demonstration of speed, smirking when our brother shot him a dark glare.

"You lack patience, otouto," he drawled, turning his palm to the floor and showing his proficiency when the paper didn't move from his stretched fingers. I giggled, delighted by the easy way they were interacting in front of me. Never before had they made an effort to include me in their brotherhood. I knew it came from their young age and the fact that, as a girl, I was considered alien to them; besides, I could understand their resentment of me, for stealing Hahaue's attention. I confess I felt the same, when I thought about the newborn that would surely take her from me for many months.

Masaru turned to me with the same wide, disarming grin of before, extending the paper in my direction, "Want to try?"

I tried to reach for it with all the possible grace allowed by my more and more coordinated motions, but the paper still wrinkled between my too thick fingers. I was familiarized with long, lean pianist fingers, made even more elegant by constant practice, not baby chubby hands.

"Now, you have to _feel_ the chakra inside your body. You have to feel it moving around, beating with your heart, expanding with your breaths. And then…" Masaru stopped in what felt an imitative speaking pattern, the suspense of the pause unlike his normal style. I deduced he was probably quoting his Shishou, probably in the middle of a practical demonstration. "You have to gather it and stick it to the paper, so that it stays in place. But not with too much force, or it will rip! Nor with too little chakra, or it won't stay. Got it?"

I gave it a thought, trying to determine the probabilities of developing chakra manipulation at such a young age. I nodded with jerky movements of my head at him and copied their earlier actions, sticking the piece of paper to my forehead with clumsy movements and closing my eyes. The silence was total, and I realized even Ayumu was looking at me with expectant eyes.

The quiet stretched for long minutes, but I perceived two problems right away. The first, the paper covered the majority of my face, not only a specific point in my forehead, and it wasn't just annoying, but it increased the difficulty of the exercise as well; this alone made me doubt I would be successful, but the second reason – the fact that I couldn't even imagine how to begin my search for my chakra – was more than enough to convince me. Masaru's explanation wasn't helpful in that sense, but I tried to understand that he was just a child. He probably didn't know how hard it was for me.

"Hey, think she slept?" Ayumu's sudden comment broke the stillness, making me open my eyes startled when he yelped. Masaru was frowning at him, his hand still poised in case Ayumu's stupidity got out of hand once more. He turned to me again when he noticed my open eyes.

"No luck?" he asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Nah…" I tried to convey my utter disappointment, shaking my head. I stopped, tilting my head to one side in a blatant imitation of Masaru's adorable habit, when I noticed Ayumu was staring at me with an absorbed expression, not even blinking. It made me worry about his reaction to my clearly complete understanding of the situation, but he just closed his eyes for a moment before giving me a resigned look.

"It's okay, Kazumi. We'll get it for sure," he said, thumping his small fist on his thigh. "And then we will show aniki we're the best, eh?" he ended with a smirk in Masaru's direction.

"Um!" I made, nodding my head with enthusiasm, making Masaru laugh and thump the top of my head softly, with affection.

"I'll be waiting for you, but don't expect me to slow down," announced him with a haughty turn of his head, looking down on us behind thick dark lashes and a thin smile.

It just made us laugh harder, Masaru's soft chuckles mingling with Ayumu's raucous barks and my overjoyed, high laughter.

* * *

Much later, Chinatsu-san came back to take us to the room currently being used by Hahaue. The room was dark, all the shoji windows and doors were closed and the air was stale and smelling strongly of incense. But our curiosity was greater then the discomfort, so we entered the room.

Hahaue was in a futon with thick covers covering her exhausted frame, the crisp air of the approaching winter making the days colder. Her unbound hair was like a living being, coiled around her and hallowing her head in an unruly dark mess, her many tresses spreading in many different direction, creating a black mass that moved with a dry sound when she turned her head. I looked at it in wonder, thinking about my own crown of unmanageable mane and that in her it didn't make a difference, she was still beautiful.

I ran with unstable steps to her side, throwing myself above the comforter, next to her spent body, and looked anxiously at her face, searching for some kind of sign that there had been complications.

She raised her trembling hand, giving me a ghost of her usual smile, not being any less gentle and tender, and passed it through my tousled hair, her fingers catching in the knots formed by the outside wind.

"Hahaue!" exclaimed Ayumu, appearing at my side with a big, goofy grin, and huge dark eyes. Hahaue laughed at his excited way and, as if to calm him down, cradled his face, looking adoringly at him. Of course he wouldn't stay still enough for the moment to continue, so he weaved his little fingers around her hand and asked animatedly, "Where's it? Where's the baby? Is it a boy? A girl? It isn't a girl, is it? 'Cause Kazumi is fine!"

"Quiet, boy!" Chinatsu-san's growl and looming shadow seated behind Hahaue made me shiver, but Ayumu just shot her an annoyed glare. "Don't you see Kotone-sama is tired?"

I perked up at the name, rapidly looking at Hahaue's face. Her name was Kotone, then. I tried to remember if I had seen any mention of the name from before, but I couldn't be sure. I found that I was forgetting the trivial parts of the plot, and began to maintain my concentration on the essential points, or I risked loosing all my information.

"It's alright, Chinatsu-san. It's invigorating to have my children with me. It's a boy, Ayumu-kun," she said with tired eyes, her delicate voice carrying with some mysterious ease through the room, immediately silencing Chinatsu-san with a subtle hint of authority.

She turned to Masaru, next, and for the first time I understood Ayumu's reticence and vague envy toward him. That smile was everything – it was warmth, and safety, and tenderness, and care. He was the firstborn and the family pride, and in that moment it showed. Her eyes shone with how much she expected of him and what she was determined to pay to see him reach his full potential.

Maybe she never looked that way at me or Ayumu because we were too young. We had many possibilities and our potential was currently limitless, but we hadn't proved ourselves yet. And in a shinobi family and Clan, what you had to offer to add to its strength defined you and in many ways would appoint your status. Masaru was our better only because he already had training and because he was Clan Heir, but it didn't detract from the truth.

"Masaru…" she called softly, and he went to her side at once, sitting beside Ayumu but keeping his distance.

"Hahaue," Masaru greeted her with a polite nod. His eyes, though, were as adoring as I thought mine and Ayumu's were.

"Do you want to see the baby?" she asked, succeeding in including all of us in her peaceful expression. I nodded, smiling back at her.

"Sure!" exclaimed Ayumu.

"If you or the baby aren't too tired…" intervened Masaru, tugging at Ayumu's yukata in what he probably thought was a subtle gesture. But Hahaue just denied with her head, making the abundance of hair resting around her move.

"Chinatsu-san, bring him, please," she called, extending her hands to receive the grudgingly offered bundle of embroidered navy blue fabric. We leaned forward, curious. She turned the bundle, cradling it in such a way we could see the tiny, sleeping face inside.

"It's so small!" Ayumu yelled in a whisper, afraid to awake the baby.

The baby was small, yes, but also just… Perfect. The miniature noise fit perfectly with the soft pouting mouth and the barely there, but already dark, eyebrows. His round face was full of tranquility, and he slept on – safe, unaware of the attention he receive. Ignorant of his _fate_. I couldn't see much else, but I wanted to see all his fingers and toes, to see if this body was really as faultless as it looked.

Even Masaru came closer, looking at our younger sibling with interest. It must have been frightening to him to think that one day he would be responsible for all of us, but I had faith in him. And remembering the way Hahaue looked at him, she thought the same.

"Children, meet your younger brother. Uchiha Madara," she whispered, softly kissing his forehead.

To look at his face and think that that was the one that would be consumed by hatred and darkness in the future and as a result would attempt to destroy this world, was the first instance when this new reality resonated as if it was an illusion. It was a _baby_. It was my brother, Madara. The reason for Hahaue's joy and the rare sense of cohesiveness permeating that moment. We were family, and we were Clan, and it was apparent. But it seemed utterly ludicrous to think about that child as an evil being. He was just… Madara, our baby brother.

That instant, I resolved that I would protect him. Because, like Hahaue and Masaru, I knew his potential, I knew what he was capable of and how much more he could be. He had proved himself already, but he had lost so much, too. I felt a leaden kind of sadness grow inside me thinking about his bleak future, and I promised myself that I would see him reach his own true potential.

I looked at my older siblings and at Hahaue, all of them increasingly important to me, and I resolved to protect them too, as much as I could, to guard that feeling of _belonging_ and true happiness.

Thus, I began my journey in this new, wonderful, terrible world.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, and welcome! Thank you for giving this story a chance! I would like to ask something (well, two somethings actually) : first, English isn't my mother language, so any atrocious kind of butchering is there to be PICKED ON. Please, if you see some idiocy or even a minor error, I kindly ask that you point it out for correction. I don't have the necessary patience to properly proofread the chapters, so any help is welcome.**

**Ah! And second: I would like your opinion in the story's rhythm. You know, is it too fast, or too slow? I'm not saying the whole fanfic will have the same pace as the first chapter, but I'm kind of **especially **insecure about this.**

**R&amp;R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I would like to thank you very much everyone who favorited and is now following this story. You make my day, guys, seriously :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

Madara stumbled to the ground and stayed there for a moment, blinking to the floor with a surprised expression. He had been trying to walk for some time now, and was Hahaue's nightmare, always falling and stumbling around, refusing anyone's help. I could see his future self already, and it amused me to see his affronted small face scrunched up.

I walked up to him and extended my hand to help him get up.

"No!" he shook his head vehemently and sat with his own effort. I huffed at him, impatient with his stubbornness.

"You know, it's easier if you accept help, Ma-chan," I informed him, squatting at his side. He just looked at me from his high ten months old and turned his attention to his current predicament: walk without leaning into anything.

I could understand Ayumu's churlish ways better and better, even if I refused to pass judgment on my own little brother. Ayumu just lacked any kind of tact to deal with a baby, and Ma-chan was certainly difficult enough for him without the added precociousness and the obvious prodigiosity.

I sighed when Madara finally figured out how to rise to his feet again, wobbling precariously but standing on his own all the same. He gave a victorious smirk in my direction before resuming his swaying trek through the porch, in the direction of the open fusuma panels.

"Hah! I win! See, aniki, you're not so great!" Ayumu's derisive laughter and loud shouts drew my attention to my older brothers. They were training with bokken that afternoon, with the grudging supervision of Souma-san, one of our older cousins. He had a broken arm and was out of the field until it was healed, so he had the dubious honor of looking after the Clan Head's children.

At that moment, Ayumu held our older brother at sword point, looming over him with a pleased expression. Souma-san appeared at his back and in a movement fluid like water Ayumu was on the floor, their instructor for the day scowling at him.

"Gloating on the battlefield will only get you a swift death… If you're lucky," he reproached. I approved of his lessons, even if his methods were too drastic in my opinion.

"Teme! I wasn't paying attention! It wasn't fair!" shouted Ayumu, his face slowly turning red with anger and embarrassment.

"Nii-san, watch your language!" I exclaimed something that Hahaue was always complaining about. Honestly, Ayumu-onii-san cursed more than the some of the Clan's hired mercenaries that sometimes took a day or two to restock at the compound.

"Kazumi-chan, you have to take my side!" he protested, pointing in my direction with his wooden sword. Souma-san immediately stepped on his wrist, making him yell in pain and let the sword fall.

"You never point a sword, if you're not going to use it," ranted our cousin, looking stressed. I asked myself for a moment how many eyes Ayumu-onii-san had almost taken with his stunts, now that he was allowed to carry his bokken around.

Of course Ayumu began to rage in response, disregarding the fact that Souma-san was triple his size and weight and his better in all shinobi arts. I huffed affectionately at the scene, already used to it.

"He doesn't change a bit, ne?" Masaru's voice startled me, and I looked to my left. He was in the process of sitting by my side, and it disturbed me that I hadn't notice his approach or any kind of noise until he had chosen to speak.

"No, but he's Ayumu-nii-san," I answered, smiling at him.

Recently, Chichiue was more present at home than ever before. He still spent a lot of time out, at the compound, supervising the men and having meetings with the Jounin or the spies. I knew because Hahaue liked to be kept informed, and she had her means in the form of the spouses. Many Jounin were actually the heads of other compounds, and in the rare times they came to Chichiue they would bring their spouses. Hahaue was their host, while the men discussed the war-effort and tactics; she always knew who was at the compound.

One of the greater changes that had occurred with Chichiue's close supervision was the family dynamics. Masaru was more and more pressured in his training, which in the last year had stepped up in difficulty. My brother, being who he is, kept up with easy, and currently was hailed as a prodigy. It broke my heart to see his infancy being slowly but surely killed in favor of the efficient soldier.

Ayumu, in some ways, had it worse. He didn't have the discipline required for the shinobi life, and lacked the maturity and focus to get better. He was constantly punished by our father for his loud and emotional ways. The only thing Chichiue hadn't anticipated was having his own obstinacy turned against him. Hahaue was the sole reason they hadn't killed each other, yet.

Madara and I didn't have the same problems. I was a girl and Madara was a baby, therefore useless in the foreseeable future for Chichiue. We spent a lot of time shadowing Hahaue or left to our own company, oversaw by the hawkish caretaker, Chinatsu-san.

A heavy thump broke our silent observation of Souma-san teaching nii-san the error of his ways, which translated in a heavy training session that would end with Ayumu-nii with bruises all over his body and a shimmering anger that threatened to explode on the next person to set his temper going. In many ways, our family was predictable, in that the response of our males was unexpectedly similar. I could see Madara doing it, as well.

Masaru and I turned to watch Madara sit, glaring at his own chubby legs.

"He's still at it?" mumbled Masaru to me, looking at Madara with laughter in his eyes.

"Um… Hahaue's worried," I answered, absentminded. I kept my words to a bare minimum. My vocabulary had definitely improved that last year and it was rare to not understand a word, but I still had difficulty coordinating my mouth and tongue muscles and sometimes the words came mangled by my faulty diction. Besides, I was considered intelligent and was many times compared to Masaru, but I didn't want to stand out _that_ much.

"You won't help him?" he asked, turning to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Madara is… Not easy," I replied diplomatically, making he snort with amusement.

"A true son of Uchiha Tajima, then," said Masaru. I turned to him, detecting the soft bitterness hidden in his voice. For the first time, I noticed the smudges under his eyes and the tired way his eyebrows creased.

"Something wrong, aniue?" I asked with worry. Masaru looked at me for a long moment, considering something, before turning away to look at the sky, inhaling the clean and crisp smell that the autumn winds brought from the surrounding forest.

"No, nothing. I'm sure it's going to be alright," he said, throwing his calm smile at me, the one that reminded me of Hahaue. It made me suspicious, but I didn't have a way to make him trust me and tell what was going on. The foreshadowing note in his voice, though, made a bad feeling surge in my stomach.

* * *

The house was in great uproar the next month. Something was happening, and it somehow affected all of us. Never before had we so many visitors, and it was surprising to see that many of them were women. They were always meeting in a section of the house specifically partitioned, it seemed, for that purpose. In my opinion, it had less to do with privacy, and more to do with Chichiue's peace of mind.

Madara and I had been definitely pushed to the side and these days we rarely saw Hahaue or even Chinatsu-san. Masaru and Ayumu continued their training regimen under Souma-san and, later, Chichiue. Our days were spent watching them and running around the house and making a nuisance of ourselves to the servants.

During that time, when we were each other's only company, we began to get closer. I would show him how to walk and the proper way to hold the chopsticks and he would create some exciting games for us. It wasn't an uncommon situation to be reprimanded for our house-wide machinations, many times involving sneaking around, procuring items that didn't belong to us or changing the placing of random objects without getting caught. Sometimes I caught myself thinking that Madara truly had been born to the shinobi life. He _was_, after all – and much to my shame –, much more adept at the games than I could ever hope to be.

Another point to the sneaking exercises was the need of escaping the tittering and gossiping women and Chichiue's temper, when he was at home. We learned pretty fast how to silently walk around our own house – the places you could step in without making a sound, the best routes through the corridors so that we could hide if needed, the right technique to slide fusuma and shoji without making a noise. It was something only we could do; not even Masaru or Ayumu knew about it.

It was on one of our "information gathering" games that we finally heard some truths about the odd feeling of unrest and excitement permeating the house.

We were tiptoeing around the sleeping quarters, easily listening to the maids walk around, cleaning the bedrooms, through the fusuma panels. It was one of the days to put the futons in the sun and beat the accumulated dust off them, so they were making enough noise that slipping past them was simple enough.

We had discovered that maids and servants in general were highly knowledgeable about their masters' lives and doings. It was the best way to be kept informed without prying, if you knew not to get caught. That is to say, _I _liked to know what was going on, and Madara just went along for the thrilling adventure; not that I could fault the boy in his disinterest. He still _was _a baby, after all, even if a sneaking, conniving, arrogant one. That day, two maids whose names I didn't remember were speaking while organizing Masaru's room.

"Did you hear? About the wedding?" one of them asked in a hushed and excited voice that made us stop in our tracks to listen; it was standard voice for gossiping maids.

"Of course! They say it will be lavish! I just hope it won't be held here, like the old hag was insisting. It would be complete chaos," answered the other.

I looked in Madara's direction and he returned my glance with a perplexed frown of his own. No, neither of us knew about any kind of wedding. We returned to our eavesdropping with renewed curiosity.

"I know!" huffed the other, a heavy thumping sound making listening to them a little more difficult. "That witch is terrible… Imagine having to suffer that woman's presence all the time till the wedding. I would trade with one of the cooking staff, that I would."

"Ne, ne, Mio-chan, did you see the bride? Weren't you the one that cleaned a room for her?"

I blinked rapidly at the new information, perplexed. So we had a guest, or maybe two, and I didn't even know about it. But, well, it _had_ been a little crowded in recent times; she could have easily slipped past our notice. It made me think about the quarters where the women congregated… Maybe she was sleeping there. It was the only place that Madara and I kept our distance from. And we wouldn't have met her at meals time, because we children ate separately from our parents when there were visits, like our house was full of, these days.

"Yes, she was so beautiful! She was a true princess!" gushed one of them, garnering my attention once more. "I can hardly believe she's Tajima-sama's sister, they're nothing alike. She's so sweet and kind!"

I leaned forward without thinking, intent on hearing some more, when I almost revealed our position with an undignified scream when Madara's little hand closed around my wrist and pulled with all the weight of an eleven months baby, stumbling to his feet. I frowned at him, but my eyes widened when I saw his frantic mimics, indicating the end of the corridor.

I stood up and started to pull him to another room when I heard it. It was Chichiue's authoritative voice, surging earlier than his presence, resounding through the halls. Madara grabbed my hand and started to run away, trying to get me to move along, but then I heard Hahaue's voice, sharper than I thought it could be. I stopped, using my own greater weight and ignoring his frantic pulling, trying to understand what they were discussing about.

"Nee..." whined Madara with an impatient voice, calling my attention. I made a shushing movement and quickly pulled him in Masaru's room, disregarding the two startled maids. I closed the panel without a sound, effectively hiding us from our parents, and crouched out of habit, pressing my ear to the paper divider.

"Kazumi-sama, Madara-sama, you shouldn't…" I interrupted the maid, making a sharp silencing sound, turning to glare at her. If Chichiue caught us spying on him, we would be locked in our room for weeks.

"… is more than prepared. I had children his age out there, Kotone," Chichiue's voice interrupted any and all movement inside the room. I think all of us held our breaths, and I went as far as putting my hand above Madara's mouth, lest he made some kind of noise.

"And I was there to see their mothers mourning, Tajima," Hahaue's voice wasn't soft and gentle at the moment; she sounded sharp and there was ice in her tone. I knew right away who they were talking about. Masaru. The casual, almost aggressive way Hahaue addressed Chichiue made me shudder.

"He is a good shinobi, and he has potential. He'll be fine," replied him. The sound of their clothes was close when they passed in front of the door, and I leaned forward to catch Hahaue's soft answer.

"He isn't a shinobi, Tajima, he's a child. Our child, not some kind of disposable killer to be sent out on missions."

They stopped walking almost in front of me, so near it gave me the illusion of hiding in open space, making me uncomfortable with the possibility of discovery.

"Exactly, he's my child, the Clan Heir. And if he wants to keep that title he will need to prove himself sooner or later. Especially now that Ryuunosuke get to marry his son with my sister," he growled. The animosity in his voice was telling, but I never before had heard about a Ryuunosuke. "He's coming with my team next mission and this is final."

I trembled, hearing the assertive tone of his voice. My heart clenched painfully when I thought about calm, sweet Masaru out on the field, killing, fighting for his life. I knew there was nothing Hahaue or I could do for him, though. She was a civilian with no say on the running of a shinobi Clan, and it was laughable to think Chichiue would hear a toddler. Masaru was going to war, but I hoped with all my being that it wouldn't be as final as my father's words.

* * *

After that, I couldn't act as cheerfully as before, as if I was still ignorant of the transpiring drama going on in my own house. Poor Madara was the one who most felt it, as our adventures were put-off by an indeterminate amount of time. I didn't feel up to any of the usual games, and those days they just reminded me of Masaru, and that soon he would put these in practice, and he would need to play them flawlessly, if he wanted to come back home.

My memories of what would happen just made everything more unbearable. I knew Masaru, Ayumu and I didn't survive in the original storyline, and it made all the air leave my lungs to think that sometime soon Masaru wouldn't come back. I wondered if he would die on that first mission. Chichiue had tried to be reassuring during his conversation with Hahaue, but things _happened_. Problems and situations that were impossible to be predicted; shinobi worked with the assumption of the worst case scenario being their best _bet_, and even _then_ they were caught unaware and killed.

I started to spend more time with him, watching him train relentlessly, only now understanding his new found drive to succeed. He didn't want to die either. The conclusion made me hate my father a little more each time I saw the determination shining in my brother's eyes. I also began to invite myself to his room at night, when the nightmares began. I discovered then that I had a vivid imagination, and that the helpful remembrance of some of the more gruesome passages of the manga, illustrative of all kinds of possibility, didn't really help.

"Kazumi-chan, what are you doing here?" Masaru deadpanned when I accidentally awoke him one of those nights, trying to sneak beneath the covers of his futon.

"Um… I had a nightmare, aniue," I whispered back. The silence at night was oppressive there; very different from my old world, where quiet was elusive at any time of day or night.

"Another one?" he asked with exasperation, shuffling to the side so I had more space. I quickly joined him, escaping the chilly air; the autumn nights were colder than what I expected. "Care to tell me what it was about? Hahaue says it helps."

I thought about it for a moment. Was it right to burden him if he didn't know for sure if he was going out on a mission, yet? But if so, wouldn't it be better to let him know, so he could prepare? I shook my head, trying to think on a course of action. Masaru was seven years old now, and our father deemed him ready to kill and be killed. To my perceptions still influenced by my old world's standards, he was terribly young, and what was happening to him could be constituted as a severe case of child abuse.

"I heard…" I stopped, surprised by myself. I hadn't wanted to say that, not really.

Masaru turned around, resting his head close to mine. I couldn't see his face in the complete darkness of his room, but I could almost feel his gentle smile, warming my chest and making something unwound deep inside it.

"It's okay, you know? It's going to be alright, Kazumi," he whispered to me, his voice close and comforting. I felt my eyes begin to tear up, my throat beginning to close with emotion. I didn't want to lose that sensation; didn't want to think about his little warm body lying cold and blooded on some unknown patch of forest ground.

"H-How do you know?" I demanded with my voice wobbling, clearly indicating I was crying. He made a soothing sound and wound his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer, making me cling to the simple feeling of _him_. His smell, which still had that indistinctive aroma that I associated with Madara and thus a _baby_; the beating of his heart and the breathing pattern of his chest; the way his hair fell, as thin and silky as mine, and many times more obedient.

"Because I'm training really hard and I'll give my all in this mission. I promise I'll come back to all of you, Kazumi," he said with such a young, serious voice that my heart broke. He couldn't promise me that, not when I _knew_ that, if not in that first mission, than maybe in the next, or the next – sometime soon, so soon – he wouldn't come back alive. "Don't you believe me?"

I nodded, softly bumping my head against his chin. I believed him, of course I did. I saw how much he trained and how good he was, from observing him and from comments overheard by his teachers. I just didn't believe in anyone else to refrain from killing a little boy. Not in that world, not at that time.

For some time, I realized, my memories of future outcomes had blinded me and made me arrogant. I thought I could change everything for the better, just by existing. There had to be some butterfly effect happening even if I, myself, wasn't acting on any of my knowledge. I had been secure in the fact that, when the time was right, I would change the major outcomes to way I wanted. Even while I lived there, for months now, I still felt detached from any kind of threat directed at me. The fact that I, as a baby and daughter of the Uchiha Clan Head, had been sheltered for my whole life there, was just something that aggravated my rather skewed view.

Suddenly, I discovered myself powerless to put a stop to _it_, to this sick Fate dictated by a Japanese manga writer. It was a shock to understand just how much my existence affected the plot. Some part of me was still hoping that, as my presence here indicated, the story was changing, mutating to a new reality, one where my brothers were alive and happy.

It was foolish and naïve. It was such a disgustingly passive way of living this second life that it made me sick. How could I wish for change when I didn't push for it?

I remembered Hashirama's plans for the future, for Konoha. I understood him more now, even if when I first read those chapters all I could think was how unrealistic that desire was, in war-torn times marked by thousands of deaths and years of disputes. How could it be made true, with just two children behind it? I remember reading about the First Shinobi War and thinking that it was a logical outcome to a dream like theirs, in a world like that.

Now, I supported it whole-heartedly. If I just could save all my brothers – all my _four_ brothers – with this dream, I would help Hashirama found his precious village. I would fight his inevitable war, and I would win. Because to lose or give up was not an option, not when my loved ones were _dying_ out there, for land and gold and pride. Those weren't reasons good enough to sacrifice them, not to me.

"Aniue, I'll protect you. All of you," I murmured in the fabric of his sleeping clothes, closing my hands in fists in the front. I was startled by his chuckles, near my ears; it had been so quiet that I thought he was sleeping.

"I don't doubt it, Kazumi-chan. You're an Uchiha too, you know?" he said, his hot breath caressing the top of my head. "We, Uchiha, have _fire_ inside us. We _burn_, Kazumi, for those we love and wish to defend. Someday, you're going to make this will your strongest weapon, too, and I believe in you to protect the Clan, ne?"

I kept quiet, but got closer to him, feeling him hug me and yawn tiredly. I mused over his words. To have the strength to _burn_ for my precious people… I promised myself that when the time came, I wouldn't hesitate.

I would make this will of fire my own, and protect them all, even if it consumed me as well.

* * *

**A/N: Please, feel free to comment on the story or on any mistake you happen to see!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay with the chapter. Thank you for the reviews! :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Somehow, Masaru's departure didn't go as I expected. After an early morning farewell, the compound continued its day-to-day routine with a tenacity that surprised me. I found myself letting the normalcy take me in, until wedding preparations and lessons filled my days. I missed my brother, but I learned quickly that life doesn't stop to wait for the return of our soldiers. Hahaue helped me accept it, in her usual quiet, subtle ways.

She acted strong and steady, the foundation of the house, maintaining order and discipline. But, maybe because Masaru wasn't at home and Ayumu was busy receiving more detailed tutoring in his combat specialization, she began to keep me at her side more often than not. She liked to keep me nearby, as if afraid I would go next. And that was the way my impromptu lessons in housekeeping began, with me following her lead around our home and learning from observing the other women.

I was of a divided opinion about the lessons. On one hand, they were useful and marked the beginning of my education; I was slowly and carefully instructed in reading, cooking and sewing, even if my hands were clumsy with unaccustomed work and my attention span was woefully lacking in regards to the more _traditional_ classes, as I also was expected to learn calligraphy, ikebana and the tea ceremony.

My developed mind took easily to tasks such as cooking and sewing, and I particularly liked the last; reading and calligraphy were interesting learning experiences and true challenges, but I had the drive to succeed. Unfortunately, my good will ended when I needed to remember all the little nuances of the tea ceremony and I was absolutely terrible at ikebana. I thought many times that my previous Western upbringing probably clashed with my teachings at the time, and so my sense of aesthetics was considered… Nonexistent. I had a good memory for flower meanings – _hanakotoba_ –, but I didn't like to _prune_ and _pick_ at those beautiful flowers; I preferred to arrange whole, colorful bouquets. I almost drove my teachers at the time insane, of course, even if in my young age I wasn't expected to take to my tasks with quite so much seriousness.

On the other hand, though, those lessons troubled me. They obviously negated whatever notion I could have entertained of following the shinobi path. Though, I hadn't made a decision yet. I wasn't ready.

When I thought about my family and all the non-shinobi members the Uchiha Clan protected I wanted to be strong enough to guard them. But my life prior to the strange circumstances I found myself in held me back; I _knew_ I wasn't prepared for it. I had had a secure, sheltered life before. I never thought about the possibility of killing, applied to myself or anyone else. Intellectually, I could understand the concept; it wasn't _hard_ to kill a person, in the physical aspect. For all the wonders of the human body, it was _weak_. We could adapt to extreme conditions, but at the same time one slip of the feet could mean certain death, if the injury was in a place critical enough.

The problem was that I trembled in absolute _terror_ when I thought about having to _fight to survive_. I had been coddled by years of technological progress and a society that valued security and comfort above everything else. Sure, we had murders and accidents, but _of course_ it wouldn't happen to me. _Hundreds_ of generations that hadn't had the need to hunt, to fight or flee, or to actively use their body to survive, had dulled my instincts to curious reactions that weren't necessary anymore. Food was bought, we had heavy punishments that many times prevented violent situations and we lived in highly populated areas, in the heart of civilization, where no being was superior to the _human_ _being_.

When the time came, I didn't know for sure if I wouldn't just freeze in panic and stand there, to passively be slaughtered. I didn't know if I could internalize the notion of surviving by killing that this place taught, destroying _years upon years_ of social education and moral programming.

However, despite all of it, I had the security blanket of knowing that, if I was determined to follow in my brothers and father's footsteps, I could. And even if it was evident that I would go to the battlefield to be summarily killed, I still had the _option_. I didn't like that door suddenly being closed in my face, even if I was already one step inside door number two without choosing. Losing my liberty of choice made me want to rebel in reflex, not let such important decision rest in the hands of others.

Even so, what could I possibly do at the time? I didn't have enough surety to fight with all my being for that choice, and the hardships of the shinobi life were ones that _scared_ me. I didn't know how to stop this course of action, and I didn't _want_ to… In a very subconscious way. Looking back, maybe it was unfair to judge the males of my family. I was fairly predictable in my sheer pigheadedness as well.

And that explained what I was doing one early morning, more or less one month after Masaru's departure, the cold breeze of dawn making me shiver. The sun was trying to shine above the mountains, and the sky was a milky gray to the east, slowly chasing away the deep blue of night and the fog closer to the ground, but still too far away to warm the earth. The stars blinked above my head and a low hanging full moon was clearly visible. I looked around, worried with any sound louder than the crickets, knowing that I wasn't supposed to be there, asking myself what I was thinking.

The metal in my hand tinkled softly in the still silence; I couldn't see anyone. I couldn't be so sure about any shinobi that could be guarding the compound at that hour, but I figured that, if they hadn't stopped me, they probably didn't know I was there. Or maybe they were curious about what stupid, foolish thing I was going to do. I was also interested in founding out, actually.

I thought about the three kunai in my hand. I had taken them while sneaking about with Madara. Our latest adventure had been in one of Chichiue's forbidden rooms, but now that he wasn't there we considered them safe to explore. Turned out we had an armory, besides a dojo. The weapons inside were beautifully made, all in shining metal and dangerous curves, in many varied forms. While there, we noticed a line of kunai and shuriken above a wooden table, obviously just polished, which was perfect for us. I suppose I should have thought more about it, being the responsible adult, but I was as amazed as little Madara-chan, and as curious. So we took the kunai and shuriken, wrapped them in some rags used for cleaning and ran to our room like two thieves, doubled over so that no one could see our treasure.

It had been three days since, and I was growing restless. I had thought for a moment to ask for Ayumu-nii's help, but he had been training hard those days. I think that seeing Masaru go on a mission drove home the fact that he would be the one going out there next. It made me worry about him, because I knew my brothers. Ayumu wasn't like Masaru; he wasn't ready. I feared greatly for him in more ways than the physical one, like with our older brother. I trusted the last to have boundaries, to have the maturity to rise above all the blood, to have the temperament to float instead of sink. Ayumu may have the skill to survive, even if he wasn't a prodigy like Masaru, but he was a child in every sense of the word. I wasn't sure Ayumu would return _whole_ after a mission, and it scared me.

So, I decided that I wouldn't make Ayumu waste his time with me. Sure, it was dangerous, however I wasn't really an almost two year old child, so I figured I was safe from anything like cutting my fingers off accidentally. My dexterity was still limited and the kunai seemed huge in my little fingers, but I was determined to at least _begin_ to train with them. Who knew, maybe I had a hidden talent? Uchiha sure had a lot of those…

I separated one of the throwing knives, keeping the other two secured in my left hand. I blinked at the kunai in my other hand, weighting it and thinking about the right way to hold it. They were _huge _in my tiny little fists, seeming too big for me to throw them; the metal probably wasn't as heavy as it felt to me, but when I fisted my hand around the small handle, my fingers didn't reach each other. Distracted, I let the two other kunai fall to the ground, taking the one in my hands closer.

The sound wasn't really loud against the floor of beaten earth, but in the utter silence of our backyard it was like thunder to my senses. I looked around, trying to determine if anyone had heard it, but of course I couldn't be sure. After five minutes of holding my breath and not daring to move an inch, I finally relaxed when no one came running to see if enemy ninja had invaded the compound.

I looked down at the kunai in my hand, now irritated and tense with the situation. Training was being more stressful than I thought it should be, and I almost turned around and forgot the crazy idea. With a tired sigh, I let my head fall, slowly inspiring the smell of dew and revolved earth.

I felt the sharp edges of the cold metal, careful not to cut myself. The handle was tightly wrapped in what felt like some kind of thick cloth, which made sense, because we didn't have any other adherent material. The cloth made for good gripping, and it didn't slip even against the sweat in the palms of my hands.

I tried to think how I was supposed to throw it. I kept gripping it like it was a normal knife from my old world, but I didn't want to go eat supper with my enemies. I gave a frustrated huff and felt for the balance on the center of the kunai. It was perfect, of course. I thought about it for a moment and just took it in an instinctive grip, like I was really going to throw it, without thinking, just _doing_ it.

The balance changed, now I could feel the weight in my wrist, but there wasn't impulse, because my whole body had to follow the action for it to be effective. I looked at my feet, thinking half-memories of how to change my body's center of gravity, not knowing if I was doing it right, but having to try. I supposed I should have a good foundation, or my own weight would follow the throw and I would just overbalance and fall forward, so I brought my left foot forward, resting on the right one.

I swayed from one foot to the other, changing my equilibrium back and forth. I wasn't as firm as I should be, but my coordination couldn't compare to that of an adult and it was to be expected. Anyway, it was the best I could do. My shoulders probably had to rotate to give my arm more speed.

I prepared, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I was _excited_ about it, even if I couldn't imagine throwing a weapon at another human being.

I took my stance, left feet on the front, hand at the height of the shoulders, hips slightly turned for more impulse. I changed my center to the front and let the kunai fly… Or I tried. It tumbled to the ground harmlessly and almost took me with it. The target was more or less ten feet away from me and it just flopped to the bare earth less than one foot from my hand. My pride stung and I glared at the knife like it was at fault. It seemed I didn't have the prodigy gene for that kind of thing, then. I supposed it could be a recessive trait…

"That was _terrible_… Seriously, where did you learn how to throw a kunai? Did you even _learn_?" the unexpected question made me jump and turn around quickly. My breathe was coming in gasps and my heart hammered away in my chest, adrenaline making me feel like running or punching the kid that had scared me so bad.

When I saw him, I immediately relaxed. For a moment, I had thought it was Ayumu-onii-san. I wouldn't have heard the end of it if he had caught me trying so pitifully to throw a kunai. Instead, a boy around Masaru's age was sitting atop one of the barrels littering the backyard, full with vegetables or rain water for the garden.

The kid had a strange hair, the color of snow – not silver or gray, like someone of old age, but pure white. He could be an Uchiha, too, if not for that color; his hair certainly was as unruly as mine, but his was worse, cut close to his head and standing up all around. He had dark eyebrows, framing his gleaming eyes of solid brown, and a knowing smirk that just made my bad temper flare even more. His clothes were simple and dirty, but the material wasn't cheap, and it made alarm bells sound in my head.

The majority of the people living in the compound were non-combatant members and shinobi stationed for guarding or just treating an injury. The civilians wore simple clothes of easily acquired materials, so that they had everything they needed inside the compound. The shinobi wore clothes of muted colors too, but they were sturdier and made for durability. They could go for days without washing and many months before beginning to fray.

The boy was wearing shinobi attire, but even if the colors were normal enough, the style was different from what I had seen so far, and gave me pause. I eyed him warily, half of me analyzing his easy posture, trying to determine if he was combat trained, and the other half scoffing at my growing paranoia. That place was getting to me faster than I thought possible.

"Are you retarded? I mean, everyone knows the Uchiha had a girl but no one heard anything about one more shinobi being trained. Is it because you're… You know, not right in the head?" asked the boy, interrupting my silent analysis.

"Excuse me?" I demanded, wanting nothing more but to take one of the kunai on the floor and train my aim with _him_ as the target. But he just laughed off my glare, completely relaxed. "I will have you know I'm perfectly _fine_ in my head. I'm just not… Gifted in the shinobi arts."

"Oh, I see. So you just suck at it, eh?" he said, all wide, innocent eyes with smirk firm in place.

"Why, you little piece of…" I snarled, giving one step forward to follow my plan of punching the brat. He jumped off the barrel, but didn't move away; he wasn't worried about me, and it showed in the ease of his movements, the line of his shoulders and face. He wasn't preparing to fight, but to humor me.

"I never thought I would hear such words coming from an ojou-sama!" he exclaimed in false surprise, and immediately turning mischievous again he added, "Never mind such a _tiny_ one."

I glared at him with fierce dislike, from his unkempt appearance to the knowing smirk still firm in his face. I wanted to know who he thought he was to come to _my_ house and insult _me_, daughter of Uchiha Tajima himself. It gave me pause for a moment, because I hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction out of myself. It was the first time in this life – the first I remember of – that someone had been so rude and dismissive to me.

With a start, I realized I didn't know who this boy was. In this age and time, it was a foolish thing to forget, and to keep on talking to him when he could be here to assassinate my family during sleep was even more so. Every warning my father had thought to give me and Madara before going went flaring through my head and suddenly, I was afraid of the unruly child in front of me.

"Who are you?" I whispered, taking a step back, feeling the kunai against my heels. In my mind, I cursed my kimono, utterly impractical in that kind of situation. Even if I ran, I would fall few steps later, my legs entangling with the delicate but stifling layers of my clothes.

"Ah, you finally caught on," he responded with ease, resting his body against the damp wood of the barrel. He wasn't attacking, but his body gave off a sense of alertness, like he could in an instant be behind me, slitting my throat open. It made me swallow convulsively against the ghost sensation of those cold, cold weapons in contact with the soft tissue of my neck. "I was beginning to worry, really. There is no place for little, naïve girls in this world. You had me scared for a moment there."

His roguish smile wasn't infuriating anymore. Now it made me shiver when I noticed, for the first time, that they showed off teeth too sharp to be human, his canines appearing above his bottom lip in a menacing fashion. I didn't know if he was making fun of or threatening me. For all I knew, he was a little psychopath who liked the smell of fear on his victims.

I felt how my knees trembled and my hands were cold with the sweat cooling in contact with the air still not warmed by the sun. I felt breathless, as if my lungs needed more oxygen than I could give them, and I couldn't stop the sick feeling spreading inside me while my heart beat frantically. My muscles quivered and half my brain was preoccupied with its options, assessing my surroundings for a chance to escape, searching for that precious moment when I could turn around and enter the house.

Like it would help. Like the flimsy paper walls could protect me against the physical prowess of a shinobi using chakra to enhance his physique. How could I possibly survive that attack? I was powerless and unprepared. The sense of irony wasn't lost in me, when I thought about my conviction in following the exact path that would lead me, someday, to the other side of the backyard, observing my target with the same keen attention, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It made me sick.

We were at a standstill, the tension thick in the air. Minutes had passed but it felt like hours, and I battled with myself against the urge to just scream for some Clan member, hoping that the kid –… No, the _shinobi_ hadn't killed them. I wanted Ayumu, or Hahaue, or even Chinatsu-san to come looking for me and to save me from the enemy shinobi, just smiling with all his teeth.

A sudden howl broke the air, as abrupt as a knife. I felt it in my guts, resonating around me, reverberating against the buildings. The fog made every sound distorted, closer somehow than it really was.

The air escaped me in one big rush, and every nerve in my body stood at attention. I was going to run away, fast. Scream as hard as I could and just awake the whole compound. I was just so scared I stayed immobile, useless. I saw a series of events play in front of my eyes, but I still couldn't move. It didn't seem real. It _wasn't_ real. Why was it happening? Why hadn't someone…

"Dammit, Gekko!" the boy snarled, turning around to somewhere in the west. He startled me out of my desperate thought processes. "God damned needy pup… Doesn't get out of my hair even when I tell him to _stay and shut up_… Hey, ojou-sama! Even _you_ would get that, right?"

I only stared at him, flabbergasted with how unthreatening he appeared to be, when moments before I was certain he would kill me without blinking an eye. The nickname was still aggravating – as was him as a whole – and I had to force myself not to forget the deceitful ways of the shinobi, not to let my mind be clouded by his act.

A new round of howls echoed to us, bringing with it a series of curses and complaints that the boy wasn't ashamed to spill in his loud and boisterous ways. I felt sorry for the… Creature. Wolf, maybe, but I wasn't sure. I worried for a moment, thinking of the possibility of it being a sign for reinforcements to attack the sleeping compound, but the sound was somehow more acute, less a call for the kill and more a plead. Maybe it was calling out for its master? This would explain my would-be assassin's temper.

It also made me think that there was no way the brat was there to kill anyone. No good shinobi would bring such a huge liability to the field, risking discovery and execution. Maybe he was just an apprentice. I felt his mentor was probably expecting it would kill him, send him to the heart of the hidden Uchiha compound for a mission. I could understand the urge, really, but I thought it unlikely.

That in turn gave me pause, again. Why and how did he know where to found the headquarters of the Uchiha Clan?

"Who are you?" I asked again, finally beginning to reign in my body's overreactions. I was proud to notice my voice was small but not afraid. I was in control again, and I refused to let some runt shake _me_. I was an adult and I would act my age, and not be humiliated by brain-washed children soldiers.

"Huh? I didn't tell you yet?" he turned to me with a confused expression, sheepishly messing his bird nest of a hair. He puffed up, lifting his chin, trademark smirk in place, the tip of his sharp canines peeking under his lip. "My name is Kegawa, of the most powerful Clan in all the western lands, the Inuzuka!"

I stared at him for a moment. My thought processes halted in part by his excited exclamation, but mostly by the utter oddness of my predicament. Why was an Inuzuka of all things sneaking around my Clan's compound at the crack of dawn? It explained the howling, however what was he doing there? Also…

"Kegawa?" I repeated slowly, staring pointedly at his strange hair color. _Fur? _His parents obviously weren't creative in the naming department.

"You know, 'cause of the hair," he answered, lowering his head and pointing at his own gravity-defying white mane.

"Huh," I muttered in thinly concealed disdain, trying to think about something intelligent to answer _that_ with. I shook my head, determined to get past my lost focus and concentrate in the important things. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you yet?" he said in the same tone of voice he had used before. An insignificant stray thought crossed my mind that it would be an annoying habit to endure in cases of long periods of exposure to Kegawa. "I'm a scout for your Clan, you see? Had a bit of a mission going on, but me and Gekko, we already finished that. I was to report to my contact, a guy I don't see has some time now. I thought it would be smart to check it with the bosses and skip all the crap with liaisons. I'm not intruding, am I?"

"Not at all," I said in a dry tone in response, hoping that he would hear the sarcasm but dismissing the notion when he just looked around with wide eyes.

"Why are you alone, anyway? Shouldn't you have some guards and shit?" his incredulous questions made me smile a little. He seemed to have a distorted notion of the Clan, if he thought something so foolish. Certainly he didn't believe that I was actually called ojou-sama and had bodyguards? Besides, we were in the main compound, in the heart of Uchiha territory. There wasn't idiocy enough accumulated in a single shinobi that would make him come unprepared and uninvited to the Clan's headquarters… And then there was Kegawa.

"Guards and shit?" I repeated with an innocent expression. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm alone now. Maybe you should stay and guard me, hmm, dog-boy?"

"I'm not a dog, I _have_ a dog! It's different, shit, _different_!" he yelled, moving his arms about and doing a lot of unnecessary noise. I panicked for a moment, running the few feet between us and throwing myself at him to just make him _stop_ for a minute. It shocked him into silence and let me strain to hear something else besides his noisy breathing. "Ojou-sama, what are you doing?"

"Quiet, dog-boy, you're going to attract all kinds of attention if you don't stop barking," I growled at him, clenching my hands in his clothe and hoping to get at some skin. Maybe I could beat some sense in the kid. What more could I do for him to understand that I was there pretty much unsupervised and without permission?

"What?" he exclaimed in a _loud_ whisper. I glared up at him, still not letting go. I was more scared of Chinatsu-san than I was of a would-be shinobi anyway. I watched his expression slowly turn suspicious, already expecting his words when they came. "Ojou-sama, are you allowed to be out there, training with kunai all by yourself?"

I stayed quiet, just looking him in the eye and trying my best to make my face expressionless. I was a horrible liar, and for all I knew he could just smell the nervous sweat in my skin or hear my rapid heartbeat and catch me, anyway. However, I couldn't stop chanting inside my head for some deity to intervene and stop his thought processes and suddenly assessing eyes.

"You are so screwed," he said with slow relish, his grin widening to show all his teeth.

* * *

To say Chinatsu-san was angry would be an understatement; more so than Hahaue even, who appeared happy to let him handle the situation. Ayumu, on the other hand, was ominously silent, his dark eyes sharp, spearing the side of my head. His little, but not at all weak, body loomed alone in the corner of the room we used when receiving guests, waiting for his chance to give me a piece of his mind.

"… your fingers! Could have been killed by an infiltrating enemy! Do you have any idea of how _stupid_ you were?" Chinatsu-san was repeating herself, but I abstained from pointing it out, thinking it would be smarter to let her vent her anger. Kegawa wasn't of the same thought.

"Yeah, yeah, you already said that. Can you think up something more depressing that could've happened to Ojou-sama?"

"What? Listen here, you little piece of…" Ayumu's temporary stoic countenance broke, interrupting whatever Chinatsu-san was about to growl at Kegawa.

"Ayumu, please, watch your language," Hahaue's soft rebuke broke Ayumu's tirade in the same instant.

"Huh, you really are siblings," spoke Kegawa, turning to look from Ayumu to me. I ignored Ayumu's somewhat startled expression and Chinatsu-san's renewed attempt to flay me with her gaze, but blushed under Hahaue's small, knowing smile. Kegawa turned to Ayumu-nii-san, staring him in the eye with seriousness. "Listen, I don't know much 'bout the Uchiha, but kids at home get at least some liberty."

"She's _one_, you dumbass!" snapped Ayumu, interrupting dog-boy. Kegawa glared but surprisingly didn't respond to the urge of immersing himself in a name-calling contest.

"And she's a damn smart one-year old, too," he barked back. "She's fine, everything's fine. Lay off a little. 'Sides, she was on the right track to nail that kunai… Just give her a year or two and she'll also know how to do it right." I glowered at him for his comment when he turned to smirk at me.

"I understand your point, Inuzuka-kun," Hahaue's voice made me turn immediately in her direction. "Nevertheless, Kazumi _is_ too young. I think you realize my reticence in letting her train alone and unsupervised. I also think that you will understand, Kazumi, that for that you will be punished."

"What?" I let slip, blinking at her. It wasn't that I hadn't been punished before, but I never saw my trying to throw a kunai as something dangerous. I wasn't _really_ one year old, and even if Hahaue didn't know how developed my mind was, I was considered a genius in my own right. She should have known that I wasn't doing it for the pleasure of causing havoc. But when she turned to me with a slight frown I blushed and looked down.

"Yes, you are. Furthermore, you will never again enter your father's armory, or your punishment _will_ be worse," I had never heard her speak like that before; her tone of voice was quiet and low, but her demeanor was serious. When she spoke, her words were slow and precise. "You will abstain from watching your brother's training sessions without permission from now on. Clearly, your judgment is lacking despite all the warnings about the dangers of training, and I can't trust you to understand that it _isn't_ a game."

It hurt, to hear the disappointment in her voice. I couldn't breathe past the lump in my throat and my eyes stung like they hadn't since my time as a scared and confused baby. My stomach was full of lead and I felt the need to expel it rise until my mouth was full of bile. I clenched my fingers in the fabric of my kimono and swallowed, trying to dispel the water from my vision, refusing to let the tears fall.

"Yes, Hahaue," I tried to say in as precise a voice as she had used while destroying my short-lived dreams of power and independency, but it was a broken whisper that stumbled out of my mouth. The too quiet air in the room made me fill my face become hot and red with shame, but I didn't lower my head. She didn't answer, just nodding somberly in my direction before turning to the others.

"Chinatsu-san, if you would be so kind as to tell the maids to prepare a bedroom for our guest and draw a warm bath for him, I would be grateful. Ayumu, you are going to be late for your training session with Sora-kun; you mustn't be late, it would be poor behavior, so go. Inuzuka-kun, I am sorry to tell you that my husband isn't at home now, but I offer you my house for recovery and rest."

"I thank you for your hospitality, Uchiha-sama," Kegawa's voice was completely different, even if the respectful words didn't match his gruff way of talking.

I stayed quiet while they filtered out of the room. I didn't rise to follow them, seeing as Hahaue was still seated, clearly expecting to continue our talk. I thought about escaping anyway; I was small enough and I could found Madara and escape to some of the more unused corners of the house. He would like that; it had been some time since our last adventure.

I was startled out of my thoughts when I was suddenly engulfed in my mother's warm arms, her smell filling the air around me, the feeling of the kimono's fabric familiar against me. It was one of her favorites, and I remember the sensation of it against my too sensitive newborn skin.

I felt my face become hot and red again, fisting my hands in the cloth and burring myself in her stomach, trying to stop any tears from coming. I wasn't that weak, but it had been some time since my last break down. It happened sometimes, when the whole situation caught up with me. I had bad days and I had normal days, but the past was always lurking in the back of my mind. And I didn't have anyone who I could turn to with my thoughts, not even my rock and safe haven, my mother in this world.

Masaru's departure; the pressure of a shinobi life, like a shadow, looming over every moment; my encounter not only with Inuzuka Kegawa – which for some reason drove home with terrible accuracy the fact that _yes_, I would be seeing characters from a manga from now on in the flesh, destroying any subtle attempt of my subconscious to dwell in psychological theories to explain that impossible situation – but also with my own blatant weakness. I couldn't be a ninja while retaining my old world's beliefs and attitudes. To have Hahaue's disappointment in me for even _trying_ thrown in my face made me feel like the ground beneath my feet was shaking and falling apart.

Where was I supposed to lean for support? Nowhere. I didn't have a safe place to run to or someone I trusted enough to turn to with those kinds of problems. So I just stayed there, in my mother's embrace, drowning the overbearing pressure that I was guilty of putting in myself, but didn't know how to let go. Just for a moment, I let the fantasy stay in place, returning to the old belief that _there_, nothing bad could ever happen.

There Masaru would return home, and Ayumu wouldn't ever need to deal with blood in his little, child fingers, and Madara wouldn't turn mad with pain and hatred. Maybe I wouldn't die and the Uchiha Clan wouldn't be decimated until we had only one last member. I didn't have to worry about wars and blood feuds or killing attempts. It was as safe as any illusion you could imagine.

"What… Do you think strength means, Kazumi?" Hahaue's halting voice broke it, cutting through that world. I couldn't be angry with her for it, not really. In that way laid madness, and that I couldn't afford. I tried to think about it, to rise above the turmoil.

"To… To have the power to protect others?" I whispered in her belly, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. She hummed, the sound amplified against my ears, and ran her fingers through my tangled hair.

"That's a good answer," she said softly, but I could hear the reticence in her voice. It was a good answer, but it wasn't as simple as that. I knew it, she knew it, but, in the end, it was what motivated me to try and train alone. It was the answer she would be looking for, so I gave it to her without further encouragement. "Some people, even grown-up people, think that to be strong is to have the means to protect themselves. Others that it means to be the best, and rise above the weaker."

"They think strength equals power," I interjected, rising my head a little to look her in the eye. She gave a wide smile, a proud one that warmed me inside and calmed down some of the storm in my mind.

"Yes, they do. Because when you aim to protect yourself out of self-interest or you seek only leverage for your own purposes, it is the kind of strength they understand is needed. Truthfully, that was the downfall of many a Clan in the past, and it will continue to plague men many years in the future."

A part of me agreed with her, having seen where that kind of mentality could lead someone. Another part, however, was becoming suspicious and trying to figure out where she wanted to stir the conversation to. Wherever it was, I had a feeling I knew the final destination. It made me rebel against the notion, and I wanted to lash out and walk away. I didn't want to hear her excuses for forbidding me of following the shinobi path my father and brothers had taken; because it was exactly what she was trying to do.

"But…" she hesitated for a moment, appearing to think about introducing her real thoughts, maybe thinking about a way to explain the right concepts to her one year old daughter. "But we know that it isn't the only kind of strength. There's more to being strong than power, Kazumi. I want you to think about the wars happening right now. Do you think that shinobi are strong?"

"Of course," I answered without having to think about it, now paying attention to what she was saying. It wasn't what I had been expecting, and I wanted to know where she was going with it. If she was implying shinobi sought power for the sake of power, she was absolutely _wrong_. I thought about Masaru, and how he was fighting for the _Clan_, how he made me promise I would continue to protect it if he someday failed to return home. I could appreciate the strength of the shinobi because I could see the sacrifices my brothers made and remember the suffering others would go through in the future, just to protect their loved ones.

"Well, then, what do you think of those that stay behind?" she asked, looking me in the eye, trying to convey something with her expression. I frowned, because it felt like a trick question, but I couldn't see the trap.

"They aren't as strong as shinobi," I said slowly, trying to see beyond the obvious, searching for that clue in her eyes.

"They aren't as _powerful_ as shinobi," she said in return, a cutting edge hidden behind her serene expression. I blinked at it, trying to understand where it came from; then I remembered Chichiue. His views on his civilian wife probably weren't very flattering. "Do you remember when Asuka-san lost her child?"

I winced in her arms. I remembered that. Asuka-san was one of my mother's closest friends. From what I knew they had grown up together. Asuka-san had married a shinobi, and they had three sons. Hahaue said that they were deeply in love, and so Asuka-san ignored her family's warning that she shouldn't, because she could be widowed any time. But the shinobi had lived, and they were a happy couple. Until war came again, and the shinobi was killed early on. She was devastated, but she couldn't crumble to the ground and live in sorrow, because she needed to raise her three children. The oldest one was called for a mission shortly after, even if he wasn't older than ten and barely trained. He didn't return.

Even then, Asuka-san knew that the Clan could call her other two children, because in times of war it is customary to train some kids and throw them in the battlefield. So, even if she was terrified of losing her remaining sons, she knew that when the time came her family would have to give their lives for the Clan. It was the inheritance of her children, their duty in the place of their father. So she found ways to train them, hiring shinobi out of combat and begging others for orientation. She needed to work to sustain the household, and to further her sons' study, and so she did, becoming one of the Clan's best seal makers, actually, even if I don't understand how it had been possible.

In the end, she lost everything. Her younger boy survived a year before being ambushed and her middle son was encountered disfigured by torture, barely alive. He didn't betray the Clan. He didn't survive, though, even with our healers' best efforts. By then, an accident with a poorly made seal took her right hand's mobility. She was a stern and tough woman, made so by life, but after her last son's burial, she came to our home and broke down in front of mother. It was… Horrible to see. How someone could be reduced by circumstance in that way. Her desperation and sadness, her clouded eyes and jerking motions. The wails, the calls, the nightmares.

She could have – in my opinion, she _should _have – blamed the Clan for the death of her children, one after the other. She could have stayed there, in despair, letting her life pass by or even worse, she could have killed herself. However, after a month, she came back, this time with a seal array she was experimenting with, to help the Clan in the war effort.

Asuka-san was _strong_, as well. Strong in a way I wasn't sure I could be. When I thought about losing my family, any one of them, I felt like my interior was being sucked into a void. I was fighting against _destiny_ fiercely, but I was also teetering in the edge of a dangerous cliff, clinging to my life _now_ just to stop me from being pulled into my old self, where I would start to question the very reality I lived in. I didn't know what would happen if someday I lost one of my tethers to sanity and stability.

"I understand," I murmured, not really realizing the amount of time I had spent quiet.

"No, not yet," her reply startled me, but when I looked at her there wasn't frustration in her face. She smiled in a bittersweet way. "But you will, someday."

She kissed my forehead, squeezing me in her arms with slightly more force, before standing with her usual grace. She passed a hand through the kimono's folds, rearranging any wrinkled cloth, and left the room with silent footsteps, returning to her duties.

What she didn't understand, though, was that I _needed_ to be powerful. How could I help my brothers if I couldn't be by their sides? How could I hope to protect them if I was imprisoned by the compound's walls?

Masaru wanted to be strong for others, to have the power to guard us. _I_ had that desire inside of me too, and I wouldn't abandon my family or my Clan to their fates. I wouldn't stay put and let the story follow its course. I would challenge the whole world if necessary, and I would do my very best to make sure I _won_.

Until then, as they used to say in my old world, one step at a time. I resolved to search for my neglected younger brother, hoping that he wasn't up to anything too dangerous.

* * *

I finally found him in one of our more recluse settings, the tea garden. Ours was a small, intimate one, and the lush vegetation was beautiful in the summer, full of the sweet smell of flowers and the sound of the cicadas filling the air. It also tended to be seldom used, only when noble dignitaries came from the daimyo's court to pay a visit to one of the most powerful Clans of the land. He was out of the path weaving seamlessly through the plants and flowers.

I heard him before seeing his small form. He was in a small clearing, made out of the way, but easily found with a little more investigation. There was a pound with still, clear water reflecting the gray sky like a mirror, and a circle of not very tall trees, bare with the winter.

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound again, like he was throwing something. I knew immediately what he was doing, and a small smile grew in my face. It seemed we had had the same idea.

I took the somewhat hidden trail into the clearing and stopped, just looking at him. His form was perfect, his throw precise. The kunai flew in a streak of dulled silver throw the air and embedded itself in the flesh of the tree. He was pretty close to his imagined target, but I supposed that it was due to his lack of force. Still, the weapon went to the same spot, like there was a magnet pulling it, always to the same fissure in the dark bark.

I thought about the number of times we watched our older brothers do the same movement, with the same fluid motion he now imitated. I couldn't do it, even if I had been there more times than little Madara could have. My body was more developed and I had more strength in my arms, even if just because of the added mass due to my growth. My mind was mature and my thought processes faster, my cognitive functions were operating at their peak. I had anatomic and physical knowledge, even if I didn't know how.

And still, he could throw a kunai and hit his target with ease and grace.

I thought about Kegawa's words and Ayumu's protectiveness and felt envy swell inside my chest, a fire that made my heart beat sickly against my ribs, curling my fingers in the palms of my hands. I never really gave any thought to how much of a genius Madara was, but the proof was there, in front of me. Plunging that knife of humiliation and impotent anger a little deeper.

I looked away from him, ashamed by my own reaction. I wasn't as important as him, and I never would be. He was pivotal to this world, while I was fated to die and be mentioned in a single line of conversation in the future. But more than that, he was my little brother, who I had promised to protect and nurture…

With a frown, I turned my eyes in his direction and let the emotion fill me, instead; a vile taste in my mouth and an ugly wound in my affections toward him. I remembered that old curse of brothers that for love destroyed each other and for hate destroyed themselves, and let it burn the warning in my head. I embraced the feeling. I couldn't be pulled into Madara and Izuna, Itachi and Sasuke… I had to be above all of them, to protect my descendants and future leaders. I wouldn't make the same mistakes, not when I knew the consequences.

I let it simmer inside until I could breathe past it and see the sweet, headstrong and fierce little boy. I still loved him very much, but I wouldn't fell to the traps of the Uchiha curse. It could be callous and cold, but I couldn't let myself forget that the blood running through my veins made me as susceptible as the other tragic characters. I couldn't love them so much to the point of madness, not with the possible future looming ahead, and I definitely couldn't hate them enough to destroy everything I was fighting right now to protect.

I remembered Hahaue's tranquil strength. I tried to think about the smooth lines of her face and the peaceful quiet in her eyes, the ease in her graceful movements and the balm of her peaceful words. I would need to be that way, some day. For the Uchiha Clan and, more than that, for my family, to stir Madara and the others clear of the same course that lead to disaster and self-destruction.

I left without interrupting him, looking attentively at the leaf-littered ground, worried with accidentally stepping in a twig or dry leaf. I didn't want to talk to him anymore.

* * *

I roamed the house, passing through the more out of the way rooms, trying to think about something to pass the time that wouldn't involve following Hahaue or Chinatsu-san around and picking up some task to improve my learning. I wasn't in the mood for sewing or cooking, and my temperament was rather dark and depressed. I was fine alone, and truthfully didn't want to rise from my own all-consuming thoughts of future and past.

It was then that I found the hime of the Clan. Uchiha Junko, my aunt.

Her beauty couldn't be compared to Hahaue's, because in my mind they were unique. Hahaue wasn't outstanding, her face was pleasant but not striking, just attractive and symmetrical; what separated her from others was her expressions, the spirit in her eyes, the air around her, her swift and dancing gestures. She wasn't frail, just gracious and calm, always in possession of herself.

Junko was unearthly, delicate in all the senses of the word. Her bone structure was light and her veins showed beneath the thin layer of milky skin. Her hair was long and unbound, cascading like dark water to her waist, framing a fragile face with huge eyes. The eyes, though, were her most prominent feature. They were a soft blue unheard of in the Uchiha Clan; at least, I had never before seen anyone with that eye color.

The genetic complications of _that_ made my head hurt, but it also made me curious. I always thought the Uchiha tended to marry inside the Clan, and even more so the main branch. But I couldn't be certain about the earlier days, and I had to admit our genetic pool was limited, at best, with our insular nature. Blue eyes had the possibility of manifesting in a late descendant, even if it was so rare that two carriers of the right genes would marry and have a child.

So, she was something different than what I was used to… Submissive, cautious in her words and slow in her movements, even if she moved with the proper posture expected of a high born. She wasn't like Hahaue's quiet authority, directing the whole household, or Chinatsu-san's assertive way of dealing with events. She was my father's sister and his opposite in every sense; she appeared young and naïve, and the kind of person that would bend to someone else just to escape confrontation. My family was a strong one, and I liked that trait; she didn't belong with us.

I don't know what she was doing there, I never asked. We encountered each other in one of the open rooms, the cold breeze entering without obstacle. The sky was still somewhat gray and it didn't appear to want to let the sun through, and the room was quite dark that day. I liked it because it promised me the quiet and tranquility I needed. I don't know her personal reasons for straying there, not really, but if I could hazard a guess, I think it had to be because of her impending marriage.

We stopped, staring surprised at each other from opposite sides of the room. I assessed the strange woman before me, trying to find her face in my memory, and she blinked huge blue, blue eyes with a mostly expressionless visage.

"You are Kazumi-chan, right?" she asked, and I blinked for a moment, surprised that she knew about me, before realizing that of course she would; she probably heard about us from Hahaue. Her smile was slow and didn't have much mirth behind it, just a stretching of her lips in a sweet, subdued smile. It wasn't sad, but she didn't appear to have much interest in making it more real.

I nodded, giving a proper bow in sign of respect for an elder.

"I'm Junko, it's nice to meet you," she continued, bowing herself.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine," I answered, trying to figure out if it would be terribly rude of my part to just continue my walk around. I resolved to quickly finish the pleasantries and be on my way. "Congratulations on your marriage, Junko-san." I said, bowing one last time and starting to go through the same I door I had came in.

"Of course, congratulations," she repeated, her voice a pensive murmur. I stopped, cursing myself all the time. She sounded so fragile in that moment, and there was something about her that made her appear weak. It would make me feel bad about myself to continue without a care. So I turned around.

"Is everything alright, Junko-san?" I asked with hesitancy. I didn't want to be pulled in a family drama, I had my own problems do deal with. She looked at me with suddenly too piercing eyes, and for a moment I could see the family resemblance with Chichiue.

"You are a very intelligent little girl, aren't you?" the words could have been threatening, if not for her meek voice and vaguely curious expression.

"Um," I made, nodding and deciding to dumb down a little. "People tell me I am smart."

"Hmm… Tajima was the same when he was a child," she said, turning her head slightly to the side. I found the way she spoke of my father strange, with a certain condescension in her voice. "He was intelligent, more so than Hiroto. Did you know about Hiroto?"

"No. Who's Hiroto?" I said. I didn't know why she was talking to me about my father's childhood, but I noticed how easily she changed the subject of her marriage. She frowned, a small wrinkle between her well delineated eyebrows.

"You should have, he was your uncle," she declared, but there was no heat or indignation; it was just an innocent statement. "But I don't suppose Tajima would talk about him very much," she finished, sighing.

"Why wouldn't he?" I asked, now curious. I had never before heard about an uncle… Truthfully, not even about an aunt, until the beginning of the wedding preparations. I not even _knew_ why our house was open to the event planning, because it shouldn't be Hahaue's responsibility.

"Oh, no, this story I don't tell," she giggled. For just a moment, those blue eyes were too wide, her smile too strained, but when I blinked her face was lovely again. It was just more and more interesting. Hiroto was a new concept to me; he was a dissonance in my world. He wasn't cannon, he was a wild card. Junko, as well. But Junko I could learn to predict; her I could fit in someplace of the plot, because she was _there_. I wanted to know that story. I didn't want any surprises later.

"Hmm… Is it a nice story?" I asked in as babyish a voice as I could make. Junko's eyes shined and her shy smile stretched to show her teeth, transforming all her face in a mischievous expression.

"I don't know the end yet," she replied, biting her lower lip. She leaned a little forward, lowering her voice, and confessed with childlike delight, "But I think it will be great."

I frowned. Maybe I had never heard of Junko before because she wasn't very sane. But then, even she didn't make any sense to me, something in that conversation kept jumping at me. Somehow, I had the strangest impression that she was playing with me. It could also be that her sudden moods surprised me enough to not let me read her as well as I should, and it made me wary and suspicious.

"So…" she began, turning her head to the side again. "What are you doing here, Kazumi-chan? Shouldn't you be with Kotone?"

"Ah, I'm just passing the time," I murmured back, lowering my eyes, remembering my reasons for encountering her.

"Say, Kazumi-chan," she began in a slow, inviting voice that made me cringe inside. It was the baby-talk in disguise. "Would like to have some tea with me?"

I stared for a moment, thinking about it. It just seemed to be so late to me because of the events of the morning and the gray cast of the sky, the sun hidden behind thick clouds turning the day white and cold. It was a strange weather for our location. I realized that I hadn't had breakfast yet, and my stomach immediately manifested in accordance.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, bowing and following her when she signaled with a satisfied grin the direction she had come from.

* * *

Junko was more relaxed and her words were more biting behind her shyness and rather absent demeanor. It was nice to have someone outside my immediate family to talk to, and it was nice to think about another's problems instead of running in circles inside my own head. She was telling me about her fiancé, Ryouichi. The way she talked about our families, we had history with his branch… The way I remembered my father talking about Ryouichi's father, it wasn't a good one.

I realized pretty soon that I was actually… Gossiping. It was an unexpected discovery, but I resolved to continue. I didn't have anywhere I had to be and I was still in an avoiding campaign of the other occupants of the house, anyway.

"He already married once?" I asked, slightly interested, while waiting for the leaves to infuse the scalding water properly.

"Oh, yes, once," she answered, already drinking from her cup, blowing the scented steam in my direction before daintily raising the tea to her lips. "She was sick, though, and lived for three more years after the marriage."

"And he is marrying you now?" I inquired, surprised. If he had stood by his wife's side even knowing she was sick for three years, why marry again? Surely, he loved her very much. Junko laughed, covering her mouth and throwing a condescending look at me.

"Ryuunosuke is eager to expand his influence by tying his family closer to the main branch," she said instead of giving me a direct answer. "But I don't know Ryouichi well enough to pass judgment. Did he love his sick wife?" she shrugged. "Now, did he love her enough to not take on a more suited bride? I think we know the answer."

Clan politics. They were sick, vicious and headache inducing. I winced and once again ascertained my resolve to stir clear of that writhing can of worms. I was curious by nature, but I didn't want to shake any bones in the closets. By contrast, Junko appeared well-versed in the whos and whys.

"But is he a bad person? I mean, is he violent or rude?" I asked, playing Devil's advocate to try and understand her reticence to marry the man. She thought about it for a moment, resting her cup in the wooden table cradled in her hands.

"No, I don't think so," she answered, raising the cup to take a sip. I copied her, holding the hot tea in my mouth for a moment before swallowing, appreciating the sweet, singular taste. I knew for a fact that it probably had been imported from another land; it was too exotic. Made me think about where she had lived all those years; certainly not in our compound, but maybe somewhere south? "But even if he were, a woman of my age can't be too demanding."

"Your age, Junko-san?" I repeated, smiling a little. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five, and even then it was a stretch. She, in turn, smirked at me and enjoyed my shocked look with her answer.

"Kazumi-chan, you flatter me. I am thirty-two."

"No way!" I exclaimed, letting my own cup hit the table loud when I lowered it from my lips in shock. I blushed in the next instant, embarrassed with my rude outburst. Junko just laughed, again covering her mouth.

"It's alright, Kazumi-chan. It's actually funny to see this kind of reaction every time I tell my true age," she said with a playful grin.

"Ah!" I let escape when a sudden thought crossed my mind.

"Yes?"

"Junko-san, are you, perhaps, older than my father?"

"I am, in fact," she said, smirking again. Her expression turned sober once more. "Though now you understand why it isn't proper to deny the marriage negotiations." She continued before I could fully process the new piece of information. I couldn't imagine Chichiue as a child, not when I thought about my own younger brother. Maybe he had been an even more serious Masaru?

I nodded, absentminded, but confusion pulled me from my imagined chibi-Tajima, scowl in place, glowering at everyone.

"But you are so beautiful, Junko-san," I interjected, not out of adulation. It was true. "Why wouldn't someone want to marry you?"

"Sometimes, when people love someone very much they do silly things," she replied. It was a non-answer again, but not something I could point at. It was clear by her vague expression that she was remembering such instance, and it wasn't a nice memory.

I thought about Hahaue's insistence that I don't train as a shinobi. I understood her fear and hesitancy, and as a woman brought up as a civilian, she probably didn't know how much damage a female shinobi was capable of doing – it brought to mind the image of Tsunade's powerful blows. In the end, it _was_ silly, even it was a mistake made out of love.

"Is something troubling you, Kazumi-chan?" Junko-san's voice averted my habit of submerging in my own thoughts and forgetting what I'm doing. Her concern was so sincere I didn't have the heart to fake a smile and tell a small lie.

"It's just… I feel so weak and powerless, seeing everyone fighting for us," I whispered, taking a sip of my already lukewarm tea, avoiding her eyes. Her chuckles made me raise my head, though; once again, her reaction wasn't the one I had been expecting.

"Such a sweet view, child," she said, resting her head in her hand and looking at me above the rim of the porcelain cup. "The shinobi who fight for such a noble goal are few and far between. The majority of them are sheep, as much as we who don't fight, even if they like to pretend otherwise. The Heads send them to kill and be killed, according to what the highest bidders want. And those are the men who _think_ they control the Clans, and they try to do so for power and wealth. After throwing their orders, they sit back and rest their hands in their big bellies, warm and well-fed."

She drained her cup in one go, but my tea was all but forgotten. I thought about what she had just said. Maybe my views _were_ naïve and skewed. For all the memories I had about the manga, for all the blood and pain I had seen imprinted in paper, they weren't mine. It was fiction, something to entertain myself with. What's more, it was a manga made for a certain public; it wouldn't deal with the dirty facts of the world. For as sick as Kishimoto could be pegged as when this world was living and breathing _his_ rules, it probably followed that he hadn't thought about the implications of his creation. And if he did, what was the matter? It _didn't exist_. So, instead of the truth, he showed us bright characters overcoming dire situations and more times than not _winning_. And I had brought that perception with me, and it was cemented by examples like Masaru.

And then, there was the fact that even if I was now part of this world, I was a toddler and I was the daughter of Uchiha Tajima. My house could be considered the safest location around in miles. I had guards and shinobi flooding the compound, prepared to eliminate any threat. I didn't even know about additional security, but I was sure Tajima was paranoid enough to have it. I had never seen the truths of this world. Like Junko said, I was sheep, even with my memories.

"But, you know, Kazumi-chan," she continued, making my attention snap to her. It was strange; she was much more relaxed, nonchalant. One more of her mood swings, I guessed. "Not the Heads or the lords, who are so sure of their own status, matter in the end. They are pieces of a major game. The true puppeteers stay hidden, in their midst, true, but playing on a whole other level."

I was riveted by her words. Power of that kind… I was human. I could feel the appeal of that kind of game. A part of me _wanted_ that, even.

"They aren't sheep, sweetheart," she almost purred, making a familiar move with her turned head. "They aren't even _animals_. They are the masters, moving everything else around, always trying to be the best, to topple the others."

She had that same craving as well… In her voice, in her too big eyes, in that not so innocent smile. A shiver ran down my spine, and I asked myself if she was talking out of personal experience, and what had happened for her to _know_ about the inner workings of a world like ours. My stomach lurched, and my mind shied away from the notion. It was too big, too much, too deep. I wasn't good enough for something like it and I would be killed faster than if I went out to fight. Even so… That treacherous, darker part of me asked: _why not?_

"Hmm… I admit I'm curious, Kazumi-chan," she continued, and I turned wide, seeking eyes to her, falling into something that snapped like a trap but felt like warm silk. "Which one will you be?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, hello there! And I'm so sorry for stopping the updates! I would like to thank for the reviews, favorites and all the new followers, even after those many silent months xD ... A word of warning, though! It's possible that there's going to have some mistakes, because I was so excited about finishing this chapter I only passed a cursory glance through it. Sorry for it in advance, and I hope you like it!**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"This sucks. You suck. _You_ suck too, fleabag."

I ignored Kegawa's mumblings in favor of briskly tugging my kimono, trying to hide a patch of dirt with the obi. It was wrapped tight around me, enough so that even if I was a true hyperactive child, it would stay in place. The problem with that was that it didn't account for the fact that it would be just as easy for me to stain it with something… In that instance, it _had _been my fault. I should have known better than to play with Gekko.

"Be quiet, dog boy," I whispered to him, trying to conceal my suspicious movements and not attract attention from the people mingling around, patiently waiting until the ceremony began.

For some reason, my aunt's marriage was a great, pompous affair. The reasons for it had been political, at best, and the presence of numerous guests wearing fine kimonos with lavish broidery was more than proof. Our temple and its surroundings had been altered by flower arrangements that hung in arcs around the gardened front, all of them wishing happiness and love, along with some devotion and loyalty, contrasting with the barren landscape.

The day was cloudy but not dark, and the sun reflected in the bulging clouds to give a somewhat white quality to the entire scene. Nowadays, the memory is blurred, with fresh colors clashing against the pure air. The wind was crisp and cold, the naked trees scratching their branches against each other, a constant noise in the background, adding to the hushed conversations going on.

The temple had been cleaned specially for the occasion, and the ornaments gleamed in the sun like they were new. There was a veritable banquet waiting for the guests inside of the ceremony hall building, not far from the shrine, enough for the eighty or so attendees. It was strange to see the ceremony hall being used. It was rare that in times of intense fighting – like the one we were living in – it would be put to use, except perhaps for mass ceremonies for the recently dead or obon ceremonies, when we commemorated our deceased ancestors.

The only ones who would enter the shrine for the ceremony were the immediate family. In Ryouichi's case, it meant his parents and one grandfather; for Junko, it meant Hahaue and an old couple I didn't recognize, but were probably close to the bride, for them to witness the rather private ceremony.

The other guests would wait for the groom and bride's arrival before going to the ceremony hall, wait for the end of the wedding and then the beginning of the reception party, when the meal would be served and speeches would be made. Even if I had never before attended a traditional wedding, I knew because, unfortunately, I had been forced to listen to Hahaue and Junko's friends and cousins gushing over it.

The single thing that didn't add up to the entire occasion was the date. It was winter. No one married during winter; it was cumbersome and uncomfortable for guests who had to travel during the harsh weather. Besides, it wasn't auspicious for the couple. Common seasons were spring or autumn, good times that symbolized fertility and growth.

Winter in our province meant cold winds and sudden drops of temperature during the night, but we didn't have to worry about snow, at least. It isn't my favorite season, even if I had been born during one of the harshest winter nights of the year.

Kegawa interrupted my stray thoughts, huffing and blowing a warm breath on his own hands, trying to keep the heat in, shrinking in his own formal garments. He had been quite put out by it, saying he was there to deliver information, not to attend a wedding. Hahaue had been courteous enough to politely inform him of the change of plans. Kegawa hadn't argued… Much.

"Tell me something, ojou-sama," he began in a mulish whisper, narrowing his eyes at me as if I was to blame for the whole situation. "Why the hell do you need a bodyguard in the middle of the fricking main compound?"

My first reaction was to chastise his vocabulary, but I had discovered thorough our months of association that throwing children on the battlefield meant that they picked up in more than battle tactics and jutsus from their comrades. It made me think about Masaru, which I stomped on immediately, refusing to think about my awkward and silent birthday without him or that it had been almost three months since he had left. Instead, I decided to do something more conductive to my sanity.

"As a matter of fact, that is Hahaue's subtle way of ensuring you won't run away," I answered with as much disdain for his deductive skills as I could infuse my voice with. "You could think of me as being your current _leash_."

I turned to him with a smile, watching his round cheeks begin to blush, darkening his tanned skin, his fangs showing through his gaping mouth. Gekko barked at his feet, interrupting whatever he was going to say and breaking our next volley of insults.

I couldn't stop the smile from growing in my face, and I immediately forgot my attire again to kneel on the ground and coo over the pup. I had never seen his breed before. He had white, uninterrupted, short and coarse fur covering his whole body. His constitution made me think of huskies, but his body was narrower and his fur wasn't so thick. His eyes were solid black, intelligent and observant in a way that made me think of Akamaru and other Inuzuka dogs. Gekko wasn't going to be big, but I had seen him moving, fast and silent while hunting birds in my yard.

"You're so cute! Who's a good boy? You are, yes, you are," I continued to speak to him in an unconscious baby talk that didn't help the high tone of my voice, scratching his ears.

"You're going to spoil him. He isn't a toy, you know? He's a soldier," I looked at the puffed-up Inuzuka and felt some of my good humor expire. I kept petting Gekko, but when I watched him bend his small head to try to force me to reach what was apparently the perfect spot I felt my stomach begin to roll with nausea.

Gekko snuffled the palm of my small hand, searching for something to eat. I hadn't spent much time with him, but I had spoiled him for all it had been worth. No meal time went by without at least a slim piece of meat being shuffled to the edge of the table for him to pick. What can I say? I never had a dog before, and I was in love with his diminutive body and adorable face.

"Che, it's alright anyway. We needed the rest," mumbled Kegawa, suddenly sounding vulnerable and tired, crossing his arms and looking around with unsubtle suspicion. It was lucky no one took notice of a bratty little boy giving them his best glare. He would make a terrible undercover bodyguard.

"Something the matter?" I asked, immediately catching the way his shoulders sagged with a kind of relieved tension, dissipating almost visibly around him despite his attitude.

"Nothing," he answered without looking at me. I searched his intense face and eyes, trying to detect a lie, but I wasn't familiar enough with him to distinguish a telling move from a customary gesture. He seemed somewhat tired, but it could only mean that he had done a lot of missions since the last time we had seen each other. It could be nothing but normal fatigue… Or it could be the fact that the battles were getting more difficult and our chances worse. It could mean that Masaru was fighting a lost war and was going to die for nothing.

I reigned my oppressive thoughts in, unwilling to let the worry simmering inside make me stop functioning. Hahaue wasn't looking too preoccupied and even when injured or tired shinobi came back from the frontlines she never asked for updates on Masaru and Chichiue's dispositions. In fact, when I happened to spot one of them it was an exercise in patience to not storm over and demand he or she tell me something, _anything_ about what was going on and where was my brother.

I had promised myself that I would be strong. I wasn't _sheep_, didn't matter what my aunt had to say about it. In fact, I was maybe a full step ahead of all of those predators… I had the future in my mind and I planned to do something about it. I didn't know what, yet, but I wasn't going to ignore that kind of information. It could – no, it _would_ – save lives someday.

I took sudden notice of the strained silence that had suddenly fallen over our little bubble of space among the crowd. I didn't say anything, waiting for a glimpse of its true nature. Gekko in the meantime was butting his head against my knees, white fur sticking in some places to the patterned fabric of my kimono. I sighed, slowly getting up so I wouldn't trip over my own feet. I still had a long day ahead of me, and already my head was running around with new information.

"You know, you can always come back here between missions. We could play and you can guard me all you like," I said, in a spur of the moment decision, smiling at his moue in response to my joke. Not that I regretted offering a piece of my peaceful and quiet life. Kegawa was slowly turning into a close companion, more of another younger brother than a friend, really. Our age gap was too great for me to consider him an equal.

He stiffened for a moment, the line of his narrow shoulders straining against the set of formal kimonos Hahaue had practically pushed him into, before exhaling a loud breath, all the tension sliding away from his posture.

"Yeah… Yeah, that would be nice. But if you begin to order me around, I'll kick your ass," Gekko yipped in apparent agreement, and when Kegawa turned to pick at him again I took the chance to smile at him, happy that, even if I couldn't help him out there, yet, I at least could provide a haven, away from the fighting and death.

The conversations going around us suddenly became more excited, and a commotion began near the temple. It was my aunt, gliding down the steps in a beautiful white kimono, alongside her now husband and, by extension, my uncle, Ryouichi. They were followed by their close family, and Hahaue was stunning, as well, graceful and elegant, and every inch the matriarch of a Clan.

The guests clapped politely, but the common folk residing in our compound, watching the merging of two of the most powerful branches of the Clan from the sidelines, cheered loud and strong. Marriage means security and stability, in special for the Uchiha Clan. Our history is turbulent, at best, and turns bloody and gruesome when the main branch is involved.

I chuckled to myself at the noise, clapping as well, and watching the vacant expression on Junko-san's face, probably hiding her annoyance. Ryouichi-san, on the other hand, was scowling and glowering, obviously unhappy with the commotion. It was harrowing to have his piercing eyes sweeping the crowd with disdain; he had an intense air around him, and it only made his loathing more prominent. It was clear that he wasn't – and wouldn't ever be – suited for a very public position. He wasn't charismatic, and not even his serious demeanor could hide his general distaste of… Everything. It had been an awkward, awful dinner the week before the marriage.

"I'll never understand you great names," Kegawa declared, crossing his arms and scowling at the newest formed branch. I giggled at him.

"Oh? Why? Aren't there any marriages in the great Inuzuka Clan?" I asked jokingly, petting Gekko's head absentminded when I noticed it was within easy reach.

"Of course there are!" He grumbled, throwing me a glare. He was cute, really. "But not arranged ones."

"Hmm… So the Inuzuka are all for true love and soul mates?" I inquired, finding it a little unreal. How did they strengthen their Clan, if they didn't tie the branches closer and just married out of the name? It would only spread their numbers thin until there wasn't an Inuzuka Clan, anymore, just a scattering of people with the same name.

"Well, no…" he answered slowly, trying to use all his seven-years-old thinking capacity to get his thoughts in order. "But we believe that everyone can do whatever they like. It's their pack, anyway."

"Pack?" I repeated, bewildered. I knew Inuzuka had a tight connection with their dogs, but not to that extent.

"Yeah, pack. Family. Kin. Brothers and sisters. You know?" he said, blinking at me with a surprised expression, like he expected me to know it.

"Uh, no," I replied, shaking my head for emphasis. That level of proximity isn't something preached by the Uchiha. We have pride, and loyalty, and honor. And that is what binds each member of the Clan.

"No?" he asked, eyes wide. His expression suddenly closed off, and he gave me a comical suspicious glance. "Che, crazy folks. My oyaji says you're all a little wrong in the head up here. Never really thought about it, but, man… You have some problems."

"Excuse me?" I demanded, trying to hide my amusement with his antics. Gekko whined when I stopped scratching his ears.

"Well… You know, I really thought you were retarded that day we met," he continued, smirking broadly. I sniffed primly, turning my nose up in theatrical offense.

I smirked at him in return, but I never really continued our conversation.

* * *

Now, when I think about that day, I find it strange that I can remember this conversation so well. So much happened afterwards… I keep trying to understand its significance to me. Maybe because it was such a happy moment, an instant of peace and relaxation?

What followed next, though, I can't explain with accuracy.

There is a lull in my memory, like the whole world took a deep breath before the storm broke. Then, black blurs surged forward from the shadows of the late afternoon, swarming like demons, hiking the low rooftops and appearing out of nowhere behind people, screams slowly spreading through the compound.

I blinked for what seemed to be one second, and then the old lady in front of me was dwarfed for only a moment by a silhouette of darkness against the white background of the sky. Just a moment… And blood gushed like an open fountain, her head lolling back in a sickening motion, pulling her whole weight until her body fell to the ground almost at my feet, close enough that I could take a glimpse of the white, white bone shining through her savaged throat.

"Kazumi!"

I heard Kegawa's voice like it came from a long distance. All the sound around me was muffled, like an animated picture in a silent movie. My chest contracted and I swallowed convulsively, trying to dispel the phantom sensation of too much air passing through my open flesh.

I was broken from my shock by something slamming against me, the heavy weight pushing my small body against the ground. My head hit the earth with a thud that I heard more than felt. Motion returned to me in a rushing tide, and I couldn't stop my whole body from starting to shiver and shake.

Warm breath washed against my face and I focused my eyes on Gekko's too close nose, feeling his constant growling against my ribcage. I made the mistake of looking past him for a moment, and choked on my own sudden horror when I saw a man wearing black with a sai in each hand, exactly where I had been just a second before.

I saw a blur of movement behind his back, and for an insane moment I wanted to warn him. It was too late and my voice stuck in my throat, a building scream that my own shock wouldn't let out.

A flash of movement in the too still air and the man fell to the ground, toppling in slow motion, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Behind him, Kegawa stood his ground with his kunai ready, not letting his guard down. Blood dripped from the sharp blade. His eyes were sharp, focused, but a slight tremble traveled down his arms.

My heart thudded almost painfully against my chest. There was cotton being pushed down my throat, and I couldn't breathe past it. Panic settled in, making me tremble and shiver even while sweat gathered in my forehead and armpits.

He breathed in, his chest heaving, and exhaled a sharp gush of air. His arms stopped shaking, but when he warily looked around he was _there_ again. He turned to me, thrown under the protective form of Gekko, and a concerned expression crossed his otherwise alert face.

"Gods, ojou-sama, don't scare the shit out of me like that," he grumbled, hoisting me with a strong tug, catching me with ease when my legs gave out in the same instant my feet connected with the ground. Gekko whined, worriedly nosing my waist, before returning to his attentive perusing of the chaos going on around us. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

From my peripheral vision, I saw a shimmering curtain of black hair fall to the ground, and I turned swiftly in that direction, my breath stopping with the thought of one more attack. It was a woman, with an elaborate kimono with a big red and white fan on the back. An Uchiha.

My mind flashed to other, more important, people with dark hair. Hahaue, Junko, my brothers…

"My brothers," I whispered, resisting the insistent pulling of Kegawa's hands.

"What?"

"Madara and nii-san," I choked, feeling utter panic seize me all over again, and I clung to him desperately.

"Okay, okay, hime, shh… We're gonna find him, don't worry. He has bodyguards too, you know?" There was a desperate note in Kegawa's voice, and when I felt the winter wind cold against my damp cheeks I understood why. I was crying and sobbing slightly in his clothes, and I couldn't seem to stop.

"But Ayumu…" I couldn't even finish the thought. Ayumu was going to die, according to my knowledge. He was going to die, and we were under attack. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't control my trembling body. I wanted Ayumu _there_, with me. I had to have the chance to _change_ that future. It was unfair that he could die out there, a mere child, not even in the field yet, but _right there_, where I could still reach him.

"Listen, hime!" Kegawa took me by my shoulders, shaking me roughly and growling at me right in front of my eyes, displaying his inhuman eyes turning to large pools of black, slowly dilating with the adrenalin. "We don't have time for this. Put your shit together, and we've gotta get outta here. Got it?"

I whimpered in his too tight grip, but his rage gave me a focus. There were sounds of fighting going on around us. It meant that the clansmen were reacting to the attack. And I _knew_ Hahaue would never let my brothers without protection.

What I really wanted was to kick Kegawa away and make a mad dash for… A knife to my neck? What was I supposed to do in this situation? Maybe if I used my extensive Literature knowledge I could bore some of the enemy to tears?

"Hime, you with me?" Kegawa shook me once more when I waited too long to respond. I trembling confirmed with my loose head, feeling like it was disconnected from my body. I had never gone through shock before, but I was inclined to think that I was falling in that direction. "Gekko, guard!" He barked to the dog, making me frown for his rudeness. "You, get on."

He swiftly got down on a knee, tugging me in a smooth action with irresistible force, so I had no other choice but to comply, being pulled around like a rag doll. I instinctively embraced his neck and clamped my legs around his waist. He rose at the same time and then we were moving before I could even register the change in my position.

He was running too fast for me to discern more than some glimpses, dodging wildly around stray blows and whole sections taken by groups of shinobi moving so fast that they were like shadows intertwining in a strange dance, until one lost a step and was felled by a shining silver line, red being added to the dark picture in arcs that were suddenly interrupted by the still moving bodies of the other fighters.

"Shit!" He spat under his breath, and we were suddenly in the air, weightless and for a moment above the carnage. He continued to run even with the sudden shift of direction, and a bark to our side told me that, somehow, Gekko was right alongside us.

I was scared, tightening my hold around his body. Everything in me screamed in fright. My hands were sweating and my heart thudded painfully against my chest, and I contracted my legs around his waist, feeling like I was going to slip and fall to the ground two stores down.

A shadow flickered in my peripheral vision, and at the same moment Kegawa made an abrupt turn on the spot, his feet sliding in the smooth wood of the shingles when his momentum carried his weight, ducking close to the ground. I heard the air whistle close to my ear and ducked to hide my face in his neck, my nails embedding themselves in the thin skin there.

It was such a close call that I felt bile rose to my throat.

But when we came up from the maneuver, it was to face another shinobi, swinging his katana in a straight horizontal arc, right in front of Kegawa's face.

I felt all of it.

The impact made by the opposition of the forces – Kegawa's body moving both faster and slower than what we could register, running forward, and the clean, singing edge of the blade – made us slide back, accompanied by the sound of Kegawa's shout of pain.

I felt all his muscle tense under my body, and for a horrified moment I thought I would feel the top most part of his head slide away. His head was bent forward, and I felt something warm begin to dribble on my hands, slowly wetting my fingers until I knew for sure that, if I was caught off guard by any sudden movement of his, I would go to the ground.

I whimpered. Wanting to let go. Wanting to bury closer and cry. I wanted to close my eyes really tight and wake up in the middle of the night. Not on my futon, in a too bare room. But in _my_ room, with the cumbersome window facing east that woke me up everyday with sun on my face; the garish, stained yellow of the walls that I always swore to paint but never really had the patience to; the too cluttered desk, the books spilling from the shelf… I wanted to wake up from the nightmare that had been going on for almost two years.

Instead, I watched the shinobi follow its first hit, quickly closing in, knowing that there was another one behind our backs. I prayed for a fast end, and a traitorous hope rose inside me. A crazed voice that I had been suppressing since my first day began to whisper: "_Why not? Maybe that is the answer to going back to your life. Maybe it is for the best."_

A small, white blur jumped forward, intercepting the blow by falling on our attacker's face, madly scratching and biting, all the while barking and growling. With a start, I recognized Gekko.

Kegawa surged forward, inhaling sharply, and I felt his heart jump under my fingers.

"Gekko, no! Come back!" He yelled. It wasn't his bragging voice. It was a child, afraid and begging for someone to stop all the bad things from happening.

His sudden move dislodged me, my grip slipping with the blood coming from the wound that I couldn't see. I screamed when I felt myself begin to be pulled to the ground, my stomach lurching and my heart beating wildly. My vertigo grew when I noticed, for a single second, that my fall was too long for Kegawa's height.

We had been too close to the edge, closer than I had thought. I was falling to the ground two stores below, right in the middle of the fights.

I was going to die.

* * *

_I wake up with the sun in my eyes, but the alarm clock is silent, resting in my bedside table. I rub my eyes, trying to dispel the sensation of sand slipping in them, and glare at the glowing green numbers in the digital display. I hate DST with a passion. I never get to sleep in, not when the sun is up so much earlier than when I should be._

_I yawn, stretching all my body until I hear my joints pop, feeling my muscles relaxed and my head clearer. I glance at the newest set of curtains I had thought to bought, but I hadn't closed them last night, and the nights before. I like the sights and sounds of a city at its deadest hours, when it's truly possible to hear the breathing of thousands of people._

_Though, I don't like to wake with the sun lighting the horrible, lime-yellow walls of my room._

_I put my hands over my face, trying to shield my watering eyes from the onslaught of brightness and the sun rays reflecting on the surfaces of the neighborhood, but I'm so used to it that I don't even have the energy to grumble about it. The apartment had been a great deal, and it isn't fair to the lovely building, even if I suffer constantly from its bad location._

_I sit up, another jaw breaking yawn forcing its way before I can properly cover my mouth. My bed is a mess of strewn random pages of annotations and some books crumpled beyond salvation, my laptop is at its usual place, still plugged to the outlet, a low buzzing sound coming from under the sheets that cover it on the foot of the bed._

_I moan to my own ceiling, and get up._

_After a shower, I feel more awake and ready to start my day. My breakfast is a sad serving of burned toast and a reheated leftover coffee from the batch of last night, used to brave the dark hours of the night._

_I shove everything I need for the day inside my bag and get out before the couch pulls me to sleep again. It's too early, but I think about stopping at a café and buying something with a bit more sustenance to eat._

_I'm locking the door when I first hear it. There's a far away bang that reaches my floor from somewhere upstairs. I look up, like I could see what was happening through the concrete, but everything is silent again._

_I shrug, thinking that it is probably someone moving furniture or clumsy enough to trip so hard that it could be heard one floor below._

_I wait for the elevator, turn my cell phone on and whimper when I see the immediate warning that I need to charge it. I forgot to do it last night, too busy with freaking out with revising to really pay attention to it._

_I begin to hear a crescent wave of noise and look up, scared. Something falls to the ground and shatters. There is yelling and shouts echo in the stairwell, even through the door._

_The doors to the elevator open and I hesitate, putting my hand forward to stop them from closing. The sounds continue and I start to feel my heart pump rapidly in my chest, beginning to send adrenaline through my body._

_There is a great exploding crash, and I feel the floor waver beneath my feet. It is so strong I hug myself to the wall next to the elevator, looking around wildly and scared, still in shock with the suddenness of it all._

_There is something strange about the air, and I begin to have difficulty to breathe. I don't what it is, but it scares me even more, pushing me into action._

_I get to the elevator, push the ground button and huddle in one of the furthest corners, waiting with growing alarm for the doors to close. The faster I got out of the building, the better. I had to get out before whatever was driving everybody down reached my floor._

_The steel door of the stairwell beats against the wall when it is hit open, startling me. Voices grow in volume but I'm too shaken to understand what they are shouting at each other. I can only hear the various pairs of feet running in my direction._

_There is a rumbling sound, resounding through the building and shaking the whole construction. I clutch at the sides of the elevator, keenly aware that I am in a structure hanging from cables, the only thing keeping me from plummeting to the ground._

_Suddenly, the explosion seems to reach my floor and everything begins to shake like we are in the middle of an earthquake. The sounds are deafening. A gust of impossibly hot air reaches the inside of the elevator._

_The doors begin to close, while I look on horrified the shadows thrown by the growing wall of fire, descending through the ceiling like a living thing, consuming everything in its way. I have enough time to see the residents of the upper floors turn the corner, equally terrified, crying and screaming, their hands reaching for the elevator._

_I can't move. I feel so afraid my knees lock in place, and I can only look on, helpless, as the doors close, muffling their pleas._

_I slip slowly to the floor, trying to stifle my terrified sobs, knowing that I have to keep a level head if I want to survive. It is alright. Everything is alright, and I will be out of here in a moment._

_I stop myself from thinking about the people left behind, of the growing, stifling heat and the orange flames licking through the rubble fallen from the floor above, a dark mass of smoke billowing slowly and ominously, taking with it whole parts of the corridor._

_A new explosion shakes the apartment building and I scream, putting my head between my knees, tears tracking down my face. The elevator stops and the emergency lights come on, a red warning above the door lights up. There is a stuttering, high murmuring coming from somewhere – a horrifying sound filling the small space of the elevator. It takes me a moment through a shock, terror-filled moment to notice that it is me._

"_Please, please, please. I don't want to die. Please, I don't want to die."_

_I try to stop, but my body doesn't seem to listen to my shrieks inside my head. I rock slowly, forward and backwards, trying to calm myself down._

_The elevator sways, and I look up slowly, praying for the cables to hold._

_Steel and metal shrike all around, a cacophony that makes me freeze and stop breathing, my heart beating so hard I think I will expel it, my stomach revolving so much bile rises to my throat._

_Silence descends for a moment, and for that instant hope rises hesitantly, freeing my throat. I breathe easier, and I raise my head, seeing my disheveled self reflected back at me by the elevator mirrors._

_And then there is heat._


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

I awoke choking and swallowing convulsively on my own silent screams.

I sat up so fast I didn't really see anything before I was emptying all the contents of my stomach on the floor, bile forcing its way up again and again, tears and mucus sliding down my face with the force of my reaction.

I was cold, so, so cold… But I felt relief, as well. If I was that cold, there wasn't any way I could feel the horrifying sensation of being slowly burnt to death, trapped inside a closed space. I was trembling and shaking, my breath coming in faster and faster. Black dots began to swallow whole sections of my vision, and I rested by forehead between my pulled knees.

I remembered then, what had happened, what kind of phenomenon could rip me from my world and throw me in this crazy alternate universe.

I remembered, and I still could _feel_ the phantom sensation of my flesh being cooked by the too hot air and my lungs shriveling from the heat. It hadn't been a quick death, not from my point of view, anyway. It had been decades, ages before the pain of being burned alive began to vanish, substituted by a sense of calm and stillness. I think I died in shock, my own brain closing down so I didn't have to confront reality.

_Maybe you're still there. Maybe all these years have been just a last resort of your mind, so that you could go without feeling the flames lick your body._

But I didn't believe it. Because to always question my reality was to dive into insanity faster than to know for certain that there was no way to get out of there.

Hands gently touched my shoulders, encircling my small frame and pulling me into the warmth of a bigger body. I gasped and tried to lurch forward, to escape the sudden imprisonment.

"Hush, child, it's alright," murmured a somewhat familiar voice in my ear. "Everything is going to be alright, Kazumi-chan."

Startled, I recognized Junko's voice. And I finally noticed my predicament.

I looked around, curious and wary, wanting to know where I was and to find Hahaue. I was in a small, bare shackle. It was a typical peasant house, with only one room and decaying wood making up the walls. No tatami or shoji. Shafts of bright light penetrated the semi-darkness created by the narrow windows, falling through the holes in the roof.

It was as bare as it could be and still be livable, and it profoundly shocked me. I was used to the luxuries of a reigning, wealthy Clan. For some reason, it never crossed my mind to think about living conditions outside the compound.

"W-Where are we?" I asked, swallowing the stray dry sob still passing through my congested throat. Junko absentmindedly rubbed my back, looking around.

"I wouldn't know. It seems we were hit by a genjutsu during the fight in the compound. I just woke up, actually." She looked at me, running her eyes over my face, her arms closing around me once more. I noticed, then, how the white around her own blue eyes were showing too much, her pupils dilated and droplets of sweat were drying on her forehead.

It made me wonder what kind of genjutsu could turn our worst memories on ourselves. I wanted to ask what could bring that expression on her otherwise bland, somewhat expressionless face, but I was afraid it would be intruding. It also brought the danger of her asking me what kind of memory could render a toddler hysterical. I wasn't keen on answering that.

I forced my hiccups down, holding my breath and slowly letting it go, timing it so my breathing returned to normal. My hands shook and my hair and clothes were plastered with cold sweat to my skin, but I could feel the blinding panic receding. Adrenaline, instead, flooded my system, but I welcomed it. If there was a crisis, I couldn't crumble inside yet.

It was clear why someone would abduct us; we were the daughter and sister to the current head of one of the most powerful Clans in Hi no Kune. We made good hostages, and if they were risking getting my father's attention, I had to think they were confident in their skills. The problem was that it didn't shorten the list of possible suspects. We had a lot of enemies, and any one of them would be happy to have the chance to somehow diminish our Clan's influence. Also, we didn't know where we were. We could be in Kaminari no Kuni, for all we knew.

Junko released a long sigh, apparently trying to get in control of her own emotions.

"Alright, let us not panic overmuch," she said to me, turning with a slight smile. She turned her blue eyes on the shack, looking around as if searching for something. I wasn't very useful. I just thought about the lack of distinctive features of our current shelter, and what would constitute rightful panic in Junko's book, if kidnapping by trained assassins wasn't enough reason.

A cold draft blew gently through the holes in the damp wood, and I huddled further into her body, seeking her heat and the calming beat of her heart.

"It seems we're not so far from the compound, after all," she stated after a moment, explaining further when she noticed my inquisitive gaze. "It isn't such a leap of logic, really. The temperature is the same, if a bit colder, but there is no snow, so we weren't moved too much south or north."

"We could be near water, though," I felt the need to point out, rubbing my hands to keep my fingertips warm.

"True," she considered with a thoughtful sound after a moment of intense scrutiny that left me sweating with nervousness. "That would mean… Mizu no Kuni? But that…" She continued, apparently talking to herself.

The door opened quite suddenly, then, startling both of us.

"… them? It wasn't part of the deal," was saying a man to his companion.

"In the end, it doesn't matter. What can we do but continue?" replied the other.

I studied them, interested in any visual clues they might have been displaying. One of them, the first one to talk, was quite small, thin and lithe, with deep brown hair and a scar crossing his left cheek. The other one was even plainer, with dirty blond hair and startlingly clear blue eyes. Both of them were wearing simple, dark gray hakamas and deep green hanten, something like a small coat used to keep warmth during the cold season. It is quite rough and mostly used by the common people, and theirs was patched in many places. The colors would actually help them blend in with the vegetation and the deep forest pockets around the mountains. Under the fabric, I could glimpse darkened iron making up their breastplates.

"Eh? They're awake, already!" Exclaimed the short one with a look of surprise. "Didn't Aoi-chan say they would be out for at least forty-eight hours?"

The blond one looked at us with an uninterested air. His eyes made me shudder when he swept us with them. They were dead and empty. His expression appeared to be carved from stone, utterly unresponsive. Maybe Tajima had the ability to cower people with a single glance, myself included, but never since our first encounter had I perceived him as a true threat to my health – after all, he was bound by his duties as father and Clan Head. That stranger brought all those fears back, and I shook under their onslaught. There was nothing and no one to save me from him. He was free to do as he pleased, and I was too weak to stop him.

It is a harrowing experience, to understand that you are so completely at someone else's mercy.

"Hmm… Uchiha," he mumbled, silently evaluating us.

"Nifty eyes, aren't they?" commented the scarred one, turning to us with an open smile. It was a business smile… A "nothing personal, but…" kind of smile. It was a knife in the dark, a glimmer of metal under wraps.

He approached us with measured steps that didn't make a sound, barely moving the dirt and dust accumulating around the floor. At my back, Junko tensed and relaxed in quick succession, but she didn't move an inch when our captor lowered down and smiled at me. Neither did I, too afraid to even breathe more deeply.

"You were quite the surprise, hime," he said. "If only you had stuck by your watchdog's side, then you wouldn't be here. Nasty business for a baby like you, right?"

I nodded because he seemed to expect some sort of answer. My mind swirled away with the new information. So it _wasn't_ personal. I was just… Collateral damage. It made my situation both worse and better, but again, it didn't depend on me.

"And you…" he turned his eyes to Junko, his expression turned colder, more intimidating. "We remember you, Junko-san." I startled, turning in the same direction. _What…?_

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance once again, Oishi-san," she replied, drawing on the arrogant, distanced air that many of our Clan are known for. But why? _How _did they know each other? "I trust your Clan has been faring well?"

"As much as possible since the Uchiha nearly destroyed us," he answered with a deceptively light tone of voice. His eyes, though, bled of all kind of feeling, until they were as opaque as his companion's.

"A simple matter of perspective, I assure you," replied Junko. Oishi's eyes flashed, and I flinched when the shadow of his hand passing registered in my peripheral vision. I looked up, and his fingers were wrapped around Junko's windpipe, her own fingers beginning to squeeze my upper arms.

"You, great Clans, have no idea of the damage you inflict. You don't even _care_," he growled, inching closer. The air began to feel heavier, and I started to pant, trying to draw more oxygen while my chest and throat constricted like I had an iron band wrapped around my middle. Adrenaline spiked and my heart began to race. _Fear_, pure and unadulterated, filled my mind until I could only hear white noise. My body shivered and shook with it, not knowing how to react to the unexpected stimulus.

"Oishi, enough," mumbled the other man, and the feeling began to dissipate.

I breathed in as much air as I could, my muscles still twitching with the aftereffects of a full killing intent assault. The draft blowing through the house felt colder in contact with the new sheen of perspiration coating my forehead and the nape of my neck. Junko's fingers were clawing my skin, and when she finally let go I knew I had dark purple bruises on both of my arms. Fine tremors ran through her arms, and she gasped, her breath labored while fighting against the pressure of Oishi's fingers.

He let go, one finger at a time, retracting his hand until it rested by his side once again. Oishi took a deep and slow breath, releasing it with the tension that was maintaining his body tense like he was going to attack us at any moment.

"You're right, of course," he finally said, his tone of voice closer to his more natural, easygoing timbre. "We have a mission to complete."

He got up, making me breathe with more ease. They scared me, with their casual use of violence and the distance felt between us. I also ignored what mission they could possibly be fulfilling that involved Junko; my only hope was that it didn't seem to entail killing her.

"Did Aoi contact you, yet?" Asked his companion, closing the door as if it was an afterthought. He moved to one of the covered windows, pulling the bamboo back so that the cold felt that much more present.

"Not yet, but don't worry. He's enough to distract those guys," Oishi answered distractedly. He looked around, as if the walls were as entrapping to him as they felt to me. "You know what's giving me a bad feeling?"

"Oishi, you know better than to talk about it in front of them," interrupted the other man, turning with a slight indentation between his eyebrows, as if he was still deciding if his expression was going to turn into a scowl.

"I know, I know… It's just, they could know something, ne?" Oishi replied good-naturedly.

"I doubt it," interjected him, his forehead smoothing over as if he had finally decided that it would be too much of a hassle to care about the situation.

"But, Hotaru…"

"Kentaro, go check outside. We can't count on Aoi's skills only," Hotaru rumbled, turning away and clearly dismissing all of us.

"Sure, Hotaru-sama," replied Oishi Kentaro, doing a mocking half-bow and storming away. Hotaru just slid to the floor in a relaxed position, one knee up and propping his hand, ignoring Oishi.

For some reason, I almost wanted Oishi to come back. Hotaru was quieter and hadn't done anything threatening toward us, but the ambient was thicker with an intensive, attentive silence, as if, even while he was lightening a cigarette with a broken match, his eyes didn't stray from us.

Junko moved against my back, breaking my stare. Her body slowly relaxed, drawing me more into her. Her hair tickled my cheek when she lowered her head, and for the first time I noticed she was still using her kimono from the marriage, but her hairstyle had fallen apart for whatever reason, freeing it from its tight constraints.

"Kazumi-chan, pay close attention," she whispered in my ear, so low I had to fight against the need to scratch where her breath tickled my skin. "We have to get out of here, _soon_,and I'll need your help. Can I count on you?"

I didn't answer, just nodded minutely against her chin.

"Good," she sighed. "Now, if this Aoi comes back, we will be moved further from our territory. Right now, we're in the closest location possible to the compound, which means we would have to make our move before it happens."

She stopped, and I nodded again to show I was following.

"However, they won't let their guards down even while we're in this hideout, because the Clan is pursuing them," she continued. "In this case, it would be better if they think that they're safe, which means that… We will have to wait for Aoi's return."

I froze before I could automatically nod again. I turned my head to the side a little, resting my lips on her cheek, and murmured against her skin.

"But then there would be three men."

"Yes, I know, but it is unlikely that the three of them will be guarding us at the same time. I'm a woman, and you're a child, and we're both non-combatants. They won't be expecting anything from us," she answered. Her argument was logical enough, but my heart still began to beat faster. I _had_ thought about wanting to be a ninja, but not in those circumstances. "Besides, there is one more thing that worries me."

I looked at her in puzzlement, wondering if she had noticed something I hadn't paid attention to. That thought was followed closely by one of wonderment; Junko wasn't at all like a civilian in that moment. She was calm and rational, and she was even thinking about outsmarting three shinobi so that we could escape.

"They are rogues," she told me, and the skin around her eyes tightened in concern.

"Rogues?" I repeated, confused. "But Oishi said…"

"When I met Oishi, he was part of a dying Clan with no future. It isn't improbable that many of their shinobi ran away, in search of a better life, even if it meant going rogue. It doesn't surprise me that Kentaro is one of them," she replied, her eyes flashing with a deep intelligence that was easy to disregard at first glance. "Look at their clothes, Kazumi, they don't have any crests, any symbols to mark them as part of a Clan, and we stopped here, instead of going to a guarded outpost outside of our borders. I would believe this kind of reckless planning of Oishi, but Hotaru is too smart to do it."

"They could be faking it…" I retorted, but I was just making sure her assumptions weren't faulty.

She immediately shook her head. "To what end? They only have to lose from showing no Clan. Rogues are a threat to every Clan in this war, and they are hunted by every one of them. No, they aren't faking it." Which brought the question of _why_ weren't they faking a Clan membership, but I stopped myself from asking it. It was frivolous curiosity, and wouldn't help our situation.

Rogue was bad… What is nowadays called nukenin, was one of the worst nightmares of the Warring States era. They were a threat not only to the Clans – betraying their secrets to their enemies for hefty sums – but also to the villages and civilians. They were deserters, without law or honor. The majority of them left a Clan because they wanted the _thrill_, the freedom of all restraints, to do as they wished. Shinobi had a great deal of moving space – always have had, difficult not to when they usually are the only powerhouses in the vicinity anyplace they go –, but they also think ahead of time… No one is going to contract a bloodthirsty monster that is as likely to slit _your_ throat as your enemy's, so, if nothing else holds their hands, the profit does.

But rogues were sick beyond every measure or control; a kind of shinobi whose thirst for death and mayhem surpassed even the needs of the constant wars. They were depraved and cruel, holding nothing sacred.

And we were being held by three of them, working for an unknown party, towards a diffuse purpose… To be honest, I still don't exactly understand how we managed it. I recall it was dumb luck, but Junko liked to say it had been fortune smiling down on our Fates... But you know what they say about Fate, anyway.

* * *

The one called Aoi – and it was clear it was a codename, and not his own – arrived an indeterminate amount of time later. Enough that our captors had given us a few strips of dried and salted meat and chill water, and they allowed Junko to relieve herself in the woods around our hideout. I didn't know how she could go, I was too nervous to even contemplate a bathroom stop, and just the notion of being watched was enough to make my bladder cooperate.

Nobody thinks about it, but even if you are terrified beyond reason – which I was striving not to be – there comes a time when your mind just _stops_. When, after what felt like hours, no one made a threatening move in our direction, my body slowly stopped shaking and my head got clearer, until I began to feel almost… Bored by the situation.

I'm patient, and I can wait. I like silence and I prize any kind of time alone by myself. I'm comfortable being inside my head. It was still hell to participate in the endless waiting game we were engaged on, with the same scarred walls, dusty floor and restless people.

Hotaru and Kentaro, though, were tense and high-strung, always moving, checking windows and slits in the wood, sometimes going outside before returning with fine snow covering their heads and shoulders.

_Snow… It's snowing out there._ The temperature had been fallen as time passed, but I had thought it was due to the declining light entering the shackle. We didn't have snow in my Clan's territory, but nights were just as likely to kill an unaware traveler with hypothermia.

At night, candles were lighted and we were given thick covers smelling of must and sweat, but they were enough, if a bit threadbare. With Junko curled around me, sharing our bodies' heat with one another, looking at the dance of the orange flame, twisting with every gust of bitter and cold wind, my mind reached a quiet, soothing place, that allowed certain peace.

But I couldn't sleep, too afraid of the ghost images playing at the back of my eyes, just waiting to reach consciousness.

I must have succumbed to sheer exhaustion, because I woke up with a gasp, my heart running and sweat bidding in my forehead. I felt trapped, and blind panic took me for a moment before I realized that it were the coverings, tucked around me. Despite the winter weather, I disentangled myself with haste, the chilled morning air a grateful respite from the shadows of my memories. Nothing clear, that time, but when Junko looked at me in curiosity, I scuttled closer to bury against her side.

It was still night, and the candles were slowly melting away, the smell of wax wafting through the inside of the small house. I looked around, and one of our captors was missing, probably scouting ahead or patrolling the woods. I could hear their bare branches scratching against one another, and the sound was loud enough that I knew we had to be settled deeply into the woods.

It was then, in those silent moments, that the door abruptly opened, startling us. Hotaru was up and moving before I could register the fact that someone had entered the house, but he relaxed when he saw the young man standing with a blank expression just inside the room.

"Aoi," Hotaru greeted, his hands moving subtly at his sides. If the fire of the candles hadn't glinted at the metal between his fingers, I wouldn't have known he was armed.

Flakes of snow swirled inside around Aoi, and I huddled closer to Junko against the sudden drop of temperature. Our last kidnapper was very small beside Hotaru, barely reaching his shoulders, but he wasn't as plain as Oishi. His short hair was a startling electric blue color, echoed in his eyes. It was the first time I had seen such… Outlandish appearance, so common through the anime. The color was more vibrant than it seemed in the TV show, but it was clear that it was natural.

"Hotaru," he said in greeting in a bored voice.

"Any problems?"

"I lost them when I crossed the river, but they're going to be here," he replied. I watched Hotaru's jaw flex from my place, in his peculiar almost-expressions.

"I thought you said it would be easy to misdirect them," he finally growled.

"Yes, I did," Aoi replied, finally turning to close the door. The thin layer of snow that had formed wasn't perturbed by his passage, I noticed. He was like a ghost, not a flake out of place. I worried about my Clan's chances of tracking him.

"Then?" Hotaru demanded, this time more aggressively, crossing his arms.

"I said the _Uchiha_ were easy. Even with the help of their eyes to notice small clues, a specialized infiltrator just has to be more careful about not leaving a discernible trail," Aoi explained, passing by Hotaru without pause and coming in our direction, looking steadily at us. I shivered, wanting to hide from his unsettling eyes but not willing to show so much emotion. "The Inuzuka Clan, though, is much more difficult to elude."

"The Inuzuka?" Repeated Hotaru, his mask slipping enough so that his eyes widened in surprise.

"Correct. It seems that the party hunting me was composed of Uchihas and Inuzukas. They seem to believe that we were part of the attack on the main Uchiha settlement, and hold us accountable for the injuries suffered by one of their members during the altercation."

_Kegawa._

I stifled the immediate need to ask after him. I remembered that last blow to his face, his feet skidding on the roof tiles, and if he had survived it, it would be a deep wound. I wanted to know if Gekko was alright. And my family…

"Inuzuka, hmm…." Commented Hotaru, apparently in control again. "Why would they…"

"Ne, Hotaru… Isn't this the ojou-chan Kentaro saved at the last moment?" Aoi interrupted, looking fixedly at me.

"Yes," answered him in a bland way, not explaining further.

"The boss won't be happy about it."

"Tell that to Kentaro," grumbled Hotaru. "The fool had our target, but decided it would be a good idea to make a stop at the roof to catch the girl before she fell to the ground. It was lucky you had that area genjutsu up; she passed right through it… Who knows what kind of ruckus she could've made during the escape?"

"Yes, but she complicates things further," said Aoi, turning his head as if evaluating the value of keeping me alive.

"How so?"

"She's Uchiha Kazumi," the silence that greeted that information made him sigh and turn in exasperation to his companion. "The daughter of Uchiha Tajima, Clan Head?"

"Fuck."

"Yeah…"

"I'll get Kentaro, you clean this place up and we'll be on the road in five minutes, got it?" Hotaru fired off before storming outside in search of Oishi.

"Yes, sir," drawled Aoi, not even looking in his direction.

I looked at him in surprise. How had he known I was Tajima's daughter? Sure, Kegawa had heard of me, but the Inuzuka Clan was an ally, and if I had understood Kegawa's missions correctly, he had access to much of the information being traded by our Clans. I wasn't vain enough to believe that the shinobi world had been _rocked_ by my birth, so the only explanation was that he had been spying on us for some time…

The fact that they weren't part of the attack was interesting information, as well. If the objective of those enemies hadn't been kidnap Junko, then why were they at her wedding? Why attack one of the strongest shinobi Clans in Hi no Kuni, at all, when the compound had no strategic value? Even if they sought to undermine our strength or influence, there were many smaller, less protected compounds, easier to invade. Besides, the thought of them easily bypassing our defenses was harrowing… If it had been such thoughtless assault, how could they have reached the heart of our Clan without a single sentry or outpost giving the alarm?

"Asagao."

Junko's voice jolted me out of my revolving thoughts. She had been so quiet and perfectly still by my side, and the prospect of hearing more about my family had been greater than my desire to see how she was dealing with Aoi's arrival. For a moment, caught up in the impossibility of my position, I had forgotten we intended to escape.

I watched, surprised, the young man nod in Junko's direction, saying, "Junko-sama."

"I'm surprised to find you here," Junko continued. Her voice was flat and when I looked up her face was almost as bland as… Asagao's. Her eyes were distant, and I could almost feel the quiet, almost ethereal woman I had first met returning.

"You shouldn't," he replied. His stare made me nervous, and it took me a moment to notice that he wasn't blinking. I looked from him to Junko, secretly thinking that, for someone so intelligent, Junko-san had the strange habit of making enemies of disturbing shinobi. "After Wakana-sama's demise, there was no place for me in the Uchiha Clan."

Junko flinched like she had been struck. The skin around her eyes tightened, but her expression didn't change.

"Then, will you forget your loyalties so easily, and dismiss a descendant of your mistress?" She demanded, her voice turning cold and harsh. Asagao paused, and I held my breath, waiting for his laughter and derision.

His lips slowly moved in a docile smile, but his eyes were like steel. "Really, Junko-sama… Do you believe it is mere coincidence that brings me here?"

I watched Junko's eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing with a malicious smirk that transformed her whole face from something harmless and beautiful into a mask of cold cunningness.

I felt a shiver of apprehension, but before I could ask anything, the door was opened again; Hotaru and Oishi had returned.

* * *

**A/N: What's this? An update? Surely not!... I'm terribly sorry about the amount of time it took to put this chapter together. Between problems with the story and problems IRL, things started to pile up and... Well, you know how it is.**

**But then again, there's still hope! Thanks to everyone who favorited and is now following this story! Also, thanks for the reviews, of course - they make me blush ;) ... On a special note, people have added me to their communities! Thank you, guys! You're all extremely awesome!**

**I'll see you as soon as possible with a new chapter, believe it! o/**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

We moved out when the sky was the soft purple of early morning; the sun wasn't above the hills yet.

The house apparently had been a farm house, once, but the forest had taken over the fields a long time before. Places like that were quite common, actually. The constant struggles over the land meant that farmlands were one of the main targets for shinobi missions, in service of the squabbling nobles.

But because the trees were relatively young, there were many patches with less vegetation, and even if my kimono wasn't prime attire for long tracks through the woods, movement wasn't as difficult as it could have been if the forest was older.

The snowfall had stopped, and only a thin layer peppered the ground. It would probably melt during the day, and the mud was going to be more annoying than the cold.

I felt nervous and queasy, from the lack of proper food and rest, but also about the prospect of failing our escape. The plan for which I didn't know, yet… I hadn't had the time to ask Junko about our unexpected ally, and any attempt I made of catching her eyes was ignored.

Things just turned more complicated when Oishi suddenly appeared and, with a quick smile, tied my hands and feet with what seemed a surprisingly simple, but sturdy knot. I opened my mouth to ask how I was supposed to walk, but I wasn't really surprised when he just scooped me up with a single arm and secured me over his shoulder.

It was uncomfortable and demeaning, and the blood flowing to my head wasn't helping matters with my nausea.

I turned my head in Junko's direction, and Asagao was tying her wrists in the same way. Junko was frowning, and I had a feeling that we being tied up would make our improbable escape lean on the side of impossible.

I tried to breathe past the sensation of bile in my throat. I had to believe that everything was going to be alright. We had Asagao in our side, but I didn't think he would be much help against Hotaru's sheer size, or even Oishi's speed, for that matter. Out of the three of them, he was the closer thing to a true ninja, but unfortunately it meant he was at a disadvantage… Still, now we didn't have much choice besides trusting him.

"Okay, here's how this is going to be," Hotaru's voice washed over us, startling me. I couldn't see where he stood from my angle of vision. "Aoi, you're our scout, as always. We're going to be passing near a Clan territory, so look out for the traps. Oishi, you're going to be taking care of the ojou-chan, behind me; make sure that if the Uchihas catch up with us, they don't get too fast to me. Use her if you have to. Junko is with me, and remember, she's our priority. Any questions?"

"Hotaru, we _know_ the plan," complained Oishi, moving his shoulder under me like he was trying to find a better position.

"So make sure not to screw up," deadpanned the other.

I saw him reach Junko, easily levering her up and over his shoulder. Her geta clanked together and then fell to the ground, but he didn't make a move to get them. It was the first time I had a proper look at her, and her white kimono was completely destroyed. I winced, thinking about the women squealing about the impractical thing, and ignored the hand squeezing my heart tight when I thought about what could have happened to them.

As soon as we had crossed into the woods proper, Asagao vanished. One moment he was there, slightly behind Oishi, and then a breeze moved a strand of my hair, and he wasn't. I looked up, but there was no sign of him.

Then, I was more worried with the sudden forward movement. It was incredibly disconcerting to be moving forward without seeing _where_. Oishi ran fast enough that I had to close my eyes and let my head fall, because the blurring trees passing by us were too much.

I don't know for how much time we ran, but despite the passing hours the day didn't become warmer. If Junko was right, and we were being reallocated to Mizu no Kuni, the weather wasn't going to get any better.

Suddenly, we jerked to a stop. The trees had started to become bigger and Hotaru and Oishi could share a single branch without having to balance much. The forest was more closed, and in some places its thick roots broke the dark soil as if they had tried to move from their birthplaces.

Contrary to what I had thought, the cold had diminished the further we entered those new patches of vegetation. They had large trunks, and some of the trees had kept small patches of foliage – those worked well in protecting some places more enclosed, so the little warmth we generated didn't dissipate immediately in the constant winds.

Asagao dropped down from a level above us like a ghost, directly behind Oishi so I had a clear view of him. There was something about him – something indefinable, that made me want to squint, like his face was slowly distorting. I blinked, and it stopped. I could feel my face red and my head was pounding in time with my heartbeat… I probably had too much blood overflowing in my head.

He must have made some sort of signal, because neither of his teammates was surprised by his appearance. Oishi turned slightly to the side, so I could still see him even from my position.

"Up ahead, there's some kind of trouble," he said.

"What kind of trouble?" Inquired Hotaru. I turned to him with some effort, balancing my weight on Oishi's back. I like to _see_ who is talking, even if it isn't directed at me. There are a lot of things to be discovered about someone through their expressions and body language, if one knows what to look for.

"It's strange, but it seems there's a Senju force going out."

"What, why?" Asked Oishi, and I didn't need to see his face to know he was surprised by those news. I felt my chest compress with some kind of foreshadowing. There were too many unexplained things happening all at once, and I felt they weren't as isolated as they seemed at first glance. The only pattern I could discern was that all of it was somehow tied to my Clan. It was only a feeling, an intuition – the kind you heed or ignore at your own risk. And I have always had too many things to protect, to simply not pay attention to it.

"I don't know," and it was apparent that Asagao didn't like the feeling. "But if you want my opinion, we should lay low for a while and let them pass."

"I agree," was Hotaru's answer.

So we were towed along what seemed to me a random path through the woods, but that suddenly opened out into a small clearing. There was a lake there, the water rippling softly with the more gentle breeze in the heart of the forest. It was clear in a way I hadn't seen before, and I could see the bed of loose pebbles and natural debris.

I thought about the safety of such an open space, but I wasn't going to point it out to our captors. With some luck, the Senju would stumble upon us and attack them, especially as they were unmarked. As for Junko and I… Well, the first rule of a shinobi was to not give your last name to a stranger, if I remember correctly. More than something I have read a long time ago in a manga, it is the kind of lesson that is constantly repeated. It was considered common sense if you ever found yourself in unfamiliar territory, or communicating with an unknown person.

I fell gracelessly to the ground, too dizzy with the sudden change of position. My face was red and felt hot, and my nausea wasn't abating, so I crawled to few steps to the banks and wasted no time in cupping some water and washing my face. The cold was good and I breathed with more ease, absorbing the scenic landscape around us.

I had been a city kind of girl, so hiking and camping, or even general exercise hadn't been my thing. The closest thing to nature I had come in contact with had been a park or two. Besides, I was very focused on what I wanted, and I would work to get there – I didn't like vacations, and I didn't feel the need to travel to take a moment for myself. I lacked the funds and the desire, so maybe it explained my silent awe of so much green and _life_ around me.

The branches moved and birds sang to each other in the distance, but the quiet overcame that. I could hear every shifting sound made by the others – the fabric of their clothes brushing together, the muffled sound as one of them sat on the ground, someone snuffling, a yawn… Everything was so out of place for me at that moment that it was magnified to my hearing.

Junko's footsteps pressed against the ground in stark contrast to the baffling silence of the shinobi, and as she sat by me to drink some water I was surprised by the amount of noise I could pick up. I wanted to shush all of them to just take in a little more of the ambient around me.

No cars, no voices, no music… Not even the noises I had began to associate with life at the compound. I closed my eyes and felt something loosen up inside me. I had been so tense and preoccupied for so long that I sighed in relief.

"Soon, sweetheart," she whispered while rising. Those two words crashed through any semblance of peace and balance, tipping me back in the spiraling feeling of helplessness and worry.

_Soon… How soon? What exactly will happen soon?_

I felt ever more annoyed by Junko's cryptic remarks. I felt worried about the whole situation, and the need to _understand_ what was happening and what would happen. For the first time, I felt aggravation at my childlike estate, that rendered me powerless and without opinion. It was now a hindrance, an obstacle.

I let her go, plunging my – _so small and tiny, and wrong _– hand in the cold water. My skin protested, and a shiver ran down my back at the sudden drop in temperature, but I felt more level-headed. I hadn't liked the look in Junko's eyes, and I knew that I didn't have any kind of control over Asagao; if something happened, I would have to be smart enough to get out of the way.

* * *

After some time, Asagao was sent out again to make sure that the squad of Senju shinobi was far enough away from our chosen travel route that our groups wouldn't bother each other. As was the usual, he vanished through the foliage faster than my eyes could possibly track him.

Not a long time had passed – maybe ten or fifteen minutes –, and Oishi started to make his displeasure known. I wasn't one to talk, but based only on his restlessness and his overall brash behavior, I took it to mean that he was a mediocre ninja at best. Maybe because I was too high-strung, I found that his once cheerful demeanor was extremely irritating to me.

"You know, if we're going to be hiding here for too much longer, we should eat something," he grumbled from his place stretching on the grass, spinning a kunai on a finger. It was, fortunately, the last straw to Hotaru.

"So get your ass out of here and go search for something," he finally growled. He had been analyzing a scroll that I was close enough to identify as a map, but I couldn't discern any prominent names or marked locations.

Oishi huffed and sat up to glare at his teammate, but then gripped with an annoying grin, "Well, why not? Come on, Junko-chan, let's have some fun."

He had never given any indication of truly wanting to hurt us, except for that moment in the farmhouse. However, the way he turned his gaze to Junko with a roguish smile made my stomach roil with apprehension. My heart sunk and my throat dried with the weight of the bad feeling I had about it.

I turned to Junko, and she tried to hide a similar feeling, but her breath was coming too fast to lead credibility to the impassive mask she tried to maintain.

"Absolutely not," cut Hotaru in an emotionless voice. He appeared to know that if he opposed Oishi too emphatically, it would only drive him to do it more strongly. It was also apparent that he had a perfect idea of why Oishi wanted to take Junko with him. "She stays with me; that was the plan. I'm a better fighter than you, anyway, and I don't want her roaming around in the woods. If you want company so bad, take the girl."

My breath left me in a big gasp, and I couldn't avoid staring at him in betrayal. For an instant, I had thought he would somehow protect us from a person that was turning more dangerous than I had thought. But he was just throwing me in, instead. He just gave me a blank stare, and then returned to his map.

My head swiveled to Junko in desperation; my heart was beating so fast I could feel it against my ribs. I felt sick, and I waited for her intervention. I waited for her outrage, for her denial of how things were going. I knew that if she made a big enough fuss, there was a possibility that Oishi would insist.

But her expression was considering, the look in her eyes cold and calculating. She stared at me as if I was a stranger, not part of her family, of her Clan. She saw my terror; my immediate refusal of going alone into the woods with a man I didn't know, someone whose limits I couldn't discover. My horror was greater than that of an innocent child, because I wasn't one – I knew perfectly well what could be done to me. She absorbed all of it in impassive silence, and then turned away.

I was shaking and my hands were numb when Oishi turned with a toothy smile to me and then got up, striding in my direction. My muscles locked down, and something in my head kept screaming at me to run, to hide, to fight.

In the end, a bewildered sort of shock kept me in place long enough for him to seize my arm and pushing me in front of him, in the direction of the more enclosed trees. My feet dragged, but he had no problem at all, just keeping his hand between my shoulder blades and steering me the way he wanted.

I shivered, and his hand shifted to holding my shoulder as if he had read the movement for what it was – preparation to escape with all I had.

We passed the green threshold and he stopped for a moment. My head snapped to look up, and suddenly I thought he was too close. He was looking attentively at the ground, not at me, and for the first time I felt an inkling of hope. Maybe I was just too paranoid. Maybe Oishi wasn't going to…

He made a satisfied sound, and I jumped. He sniggered and pointed at something, and I followed his finger almost automatically. "See there? It's a trail. Let's go."

Indeed, there was a patch in between the close trees. It was narrow, and barely less crowded by shrubs and plants than the rest, but after a moment it was possible to notice the disparity with the rest of the more crowded forest floor.

We went that way, tracking through the uneven ground. I tripped every other moment, hampered by my kimono and my own pair of appropriate shoes, while he glided behind me. His utter silence made me uneasy again, and my neck began to hurt with all the tension in my back.

"Okay, stop," he snapped, and I whimpered.

I looked around, half hysteric, but somehow, even if we hadn't walked for much time, we appeared to be completely alone. I thought about doing something drastic. Adrenaline surged, and one hundred different scenarios ran through my mind – I would hurt him and escape; I would be killed; I would run and become lost; he would find me and it would be some much worse…

Oishi sunk down in front of me and I gave a start, but when I tried to jump back from his sudden proximity he took a hold of the dirty hem of my kimono, keeping me in place. He swiftly took hold of my small ankles and took the geta off, throwing them over his shoulder, and smiled at me, shaking my left feet a little.

His smile turned rueful after a moment, and he let go, balancing in the balls of his feet. I was still gasping and shaking, but it was the most serious I had seen Oishi when talking to me. "Well, that didn't go exactly as planned." He murmured, inclining forward as if he was sharing a secret.

I blinked. His voice was coming from a distant place. I wondered if I was going to faint and held my breath to try to control it a little, trying to hear him above the roaring in my ears.

"Hey, ojou-chan, I'm not going to do anything, alright?" He said, looking intently at me. Then he murmured, as if to himself, "Should've known she would act like an emotionless bitch." His glare burned the ground where it was directed, and I understood he was talking about Junko.

Relief flooded me so suddenly I staggered and fell to the ground before he could catch me. He had been talking about Junko. He had done it to get Junko to go with him, like I had expected her to go…

No, I didn't have any doubt that her fate would have been very different from mine, if she had followed him, but at that moment it didn't matter. I was almost dizzy with the conclusion, and now that I knew what Oishi was capable of, I just had to be careful to not push any of his buttons. I could do that. I was smart enough, it was going to be alright.

He had a surprised expression, wide eyes blinking slowly, but he didn't laugh. Actually, he looked almost upset and unsettled by the assumptions I had made. I didn't know, I didn't care. I just wanted to go home, burrow against Hahaue and never get out again.

"Okay," he said slowly, getting up with a groan and stretching slowly. He turned his head around, checking our surroundings. "We better get a move on if we want to get back before nightfall. Stay close, ojou-chan, you don't want to end up lost around here."

Thankfully, he didn't try to help me off the ground. I got up, still somewhat unsteady, but I wasn't close to a panic attack, anymore. I patted my kimono, trying to get it clean and knowing I was only succeeding in making it dirtier.

As we resumed our walk, I thought it would be very unlikely that Oishi would catch anything with me stumbling around, now behind him – but I _was_ quieter, and I didn't stagger so much, with the shoes gone. Maybe he was just the kind of person that couldn't bear staying still for very long, or maybe he knew those woods well enough that his slight disadvantage – that being _me_ – didn't matter.

Meanwhile, I gave my all to not think about Junko. I could feel something ugly beginning to sizzle inside of me and it scared me with its force. I have never been a violent person – on the contrary, I'm too slow to take action, too fast in giving justifications for someone else –, but I wanted to shout and cry and _break_ something. Another part of me just shied away from the concept that an adult woman – my _aunt_ – had let a child get taken away like that; that part was so full of outrage and disgust I just wanted to cry.

As I had predicted, even if we were following some kind of animal trail, we didn't find anything. Oishi didn't seem too upset about it, and I was just content to recognize the change of light some place ahead that indicated our clearing. Even if I didn't want to see Junko – my heart thudded, and I fisted my hands so tight I felt my nail biting the skin – it was preferable to continue sweating around the woods in what I thought were loose circles around our camp.

I asked myself if Junko had been worried about me at all, but I pushed the thought away when it made me too queasy. It was a shock, but as far as events were going, it was unimportant. And if I had to suppress my wish to yell at her the moment I laid eyes on that woman, then I was going to be mature about it and save it to when we were safe – maybe strategically positioned in front of my mother.

All those thoughts flew out of my head when a bloodcurdling scream cut through the forest, in the direction of the clearing. Instantly, all around us the trees fell in a tense silence, and for the first time I noticed the subtle, constant song of the many small animals around us, gone quiet.

I thought about how strange it was that we hadn't heard it earlier, but the next scream came too fast for me to finish that line of thinking.

Oishi took my arm in a vice grip, and in a swirl of movement that left me nauseous we were up in a tree towering the outskirts of our camping site. Even crushed against Oishi, with his hand over half of my face, it was easy to see what was going on at ground level.

My eyes widened in shock, trying to understand what was going on as the screams carried on one after the other.

Hotaru was down, rolling around the grass and madly scratching at his own face, like he was trying to rip his eyeballs off. His screams came as fast as he could draw air in, and blood flowed through the gouges he had inflicted on himself. It was shocking to see the composed shinobi in such a state, and his pain was so evident that my eyes blurred with tears. He was being _tortured_, and I wanted it to stop.

More horrifying was the sight of plain, calm Junko standing over him. Her head was turned in that habit of hers, as if she was curious to see what he would do next. I couldn't see her face, but it was clear that she wasn't moved by his obvious hurt. It was just as clear that it was she that was causing it.

Oishi tightened his arm around me so suddenly that I choked on a shriek of pain. He growled and let gravity take us down. My eyes widened with the rapidly approaching ground, but our landing was smooth.

Junko whipped around, and my shock was for once shared with my captor. The tomoe in her red eyes were lazily spinning, three on her right one, two on the left. I watched with detachment as they began to pick up speed. She let her head fall to the side, expressionless, waiting.

"Let him go, now," hissed Oishi, and his hand slowly moved from the lower half of my face to settle around my neck. My heartbeat picked up, and I swallowed against the weight of his fingers wrapped around my windpipe.

The worst was the not knowing. Would she care enough to comply? Why would she, when she had abandoned me to a comparatively worse fate?

But to my unending relief, the screaming stopped. Hotaru didn't get up, though, he just lay there. I glanced at her face, and the Sharingan was still active, utterly alien to me. My curiosity burned inside of me, but I wasn't going to ask anything.

"Close your eyes," ordered Oishi. "Now!" He shouted when she didn't move, shaking me and for a terrifying moment constricting my breathing. I had closed my own, so when I opened them I was startled by her very wide, blue eyes.

My heart sank. I felt bitterness and fury fill my mouth with a bad taste; of course she wouldn't care if he broke my neck. She would probably use that moment of distraction to her advantage, somehow.

I had a moment to detect the shifting muscles in Oishi's forearm, the sudden pressure in my neck. He squeezed, and panic took a hold of me. I began to trash and scratch at the unprotected skin of his arm, trying to pry his fingers open, kicking the open air in front of me in reflex.

Then we were falling forward, and I was more worried with being crushed by him. There was a disconcerting sensation of movement again, and once more I was in a completely different place in a baffling short amount of time.

Then I heard one of the dearest sounds on this universe to me.

"Kazumi!" Masaru's voice, worried, tired… Alive.

I turned in his direction as fast as I could, almost falling out of the grip of the person who was holding me in my haste.

But he was _there_. Black hair too long, tangled and matted, face covered by a disquieting amount of mud and blood, dark eyes too wide and shining with a fevered weariness. But still, _there_. I drank him in, obsessively cataloguing every tear in his cloth, every bandage, every bruise.

I was so engrossed by his appearance, that it took a few moments for the situation to sink in. There he was, Chichiue a cold shadow by his side, with at least three others of our Clan – their red eyes glowing –, perched as vultures in different branches of the tree. On the ground level, two Inuzuka were followed by their companions, growling in agitation.

They were on the other side of the clearing.

"So, this is what you had in mind when you attacked our territory, Senju." Tajima's voice was emotionless, his eyes narrowed on the person holding me. He crouched as a waiting predator, ready to pounce.

"I don't think you're in any position to accuse our Clan, Uchiha," replied a man's voice to my left. It was deep and level-headed, but still powerful enough to make me shiver with the hidden warning in it. I turned, and it was a big man, strong chin, high cheekbones, long dark brown hair held in a high ponytail. He wore a red shinobi light armor engraved with the Senju symbol on the breastplate.

"I have seen your crest on the vests of the shinobi who attacked our Clan, and I see my daughter and sister in your custody. I understand their usefulness. There's nothing you can say to convince me of your innocence." His tone was cutting and precise, and after his last sentence, he drew his sword with a sigh of metal on leather.

There was a ripple of movement on the Senju side of the clearing, but a sharp movement of the Senju spokesman froze them.

"You're in Senju territory, Uchiha Tajima, and you're outnumbered. Furthermore, we won't fight to protect our honor from lies. Our conscience is clean, and we don't have to justify ourselves to you. You're to take your charges and go, or continue in your delusions and die." He was very confident of that, too.

"This is not Senju territory," he snapped back, immediately, losing a little of his composure. From what I could see from the Senju man's profile, he was beginning to become impatient as well. But the Senju didn't answer, only maintaining a steady gaze in Tajima's direction.

I trembled. It was ironic that, when I was least wishing for it, I found my desires fulfilled. There I was, in the battlefield, where I had so wanted to be. The realization was bitter and filled with dread. Masaru was on the other side, and the Senju was right. I remembered very well that our Clan was outclassed by theirs, and the difference in numbers wasn't going to help.

My eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, before widening with my surprise. They had me with them, now. I didn't know about the attack on the compound, but I was certain that they weren't the ones behind my kidnapping. We had been _avoiding_ them, anyway. But what baffled me was that they could use me – well, technically – to make my father surrender. After Junko's show of loyalty, though, my thoughts were doubtful and uncharitable; I wouldn't expect any kind of reaction if that were to happen. The point was, they weren't doing it. They rose in my esteem for not taking that course of action.

There was a moment of utter stillness as both sides evaluated one another. I noticed that Junko had discreetly moved out of the way, but she hadn't gone to Tajima's side, either. I asked myself where Asagao was, and I avoided looking too directly to Oishi's stretched body laying in a pool of his own blood in the no-man's land in the middle of the clearing. Things were going too fast and I just wanted to stop everything around me to absorb the changes.

I chanced a glance at my father's expression, but it was stony and unreadable. I could see a muscle ticking in his jaw, but that was the only indication of his temper. It was clear that he wasn't happy with the conditions, but I hoped that he had enough sense to get us – _Masaru_ – home.

"Very well," he said through clenched teeth, sheathing the sword in a fluid motion. "Let her go, and then we leave."

The Senju shifted and tensed, and the man in charge opened his mouth with a frown. I felt tired and like I would start to cry at any moment, because there was no way that things could end that easily. They weren't stupid – they knew that a shinobi is resourceful; greater number doesn't equal obvious victory. They wouldn't let me go when there was the possibility of an attack.

I felt my eyes sting and I opened them very wide to avoid crying. Now, that would be ridiculous. My rescue was just _there_, everything was going to be okay. I hadn't cried yet, why the hell would I begin _now_ when it was so close to the end? But then, it was _so_ close and still… That clearing might as well be a whole country, for all I cared, because with that suspicious expression that Senju man had said it all. He wasn't just going to let me go.

A wisp of something blue flowed in my line of vision, and I stared at it with my mouth open. _What…?_

"It's alright, Kazumi-san."

There was a swirl of color and wind, that horrible sense of dislocation and I was staring at about seven men, all of them wearing somewhat closely resembling clothes and with the Senju Clan crest displayed. They seemed as surprised as the Uchiha, with various weapons suddenly at hand.

I swallowed the taste of bile and controlled my need to throw up, upturning my face to speak faintly with Asagao, "Let's not do this again, okay?" He nodded, but the look in his eyes was too far away for me to take it seriously.

The clearing was so tense and charged that I feared Asagao's method of transportation would be necessary earlier than I wanted, if they charged at each other. But after a moment of silence, Chichiue actually nodded in Asagao's direction and strengthened from his crouch.

"We're leaving."

I didn't know it at that time, but that day marked the beginning of Uchiha Tajima's fall.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Thank you very much for the reviews, follows and favorites! I hope you're all enjoying the story as much as I enjoy writing it :)**

**I will take a moment to answer a Guest's review, though, because I plan to touch the subject in the story, but I'm not sure if it will be possible. So, Guest asked why Kazumi didn't get the Sharingan after she remembered the traumatic way she died. My answer is: for the same reason Sasuke didn't get the Sharingan even after the Massacre; or Madara, even if he lived in a war-torn era. Both of them, though, develop their Sharingan at roughly the same time, when they are around 12/13 years old. So, in my head, the Sharingan can't develop before then. I don't know, it makes sense to me... And I know, believe me _I know_ Itachi got his at 8 years old, but I still think it's more plausible to think he's the anomaly instead of, say, Madara, who appears to be more powerful. So, that's my theory, what do you think? ;)**


End file.
